


Fog of War

by LittlebutFiery



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Contact War, Lots of Profanity (sorry), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:04:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: Commander Evelin Shepard and Captain Garrus Vakarian are the only survivors of a bloody set of battles over the planet of Canae during the First Contact War. Harsh life on Canae with little hope of extraction brings the two together, and what begins as a tenuous partnership becomes something more, something that will change the fate of the galaxy.





	1. Lone Survivors

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you reading my "Jane & Garrus" series, fear not - I haven't abandoned it...just needed a break from the heavy content material of "Invictus."
> 
> Shepard and Garrus begin this story a little OOC from the games, as they were raised in extremely brutal, xenophobic conditions. If you don't like them at first, hopefully their character growth will make them more likable as the story continues.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“Grenade!”

Fear shot through Shepard, paralyzing her for only the briefest of seconds before she whipped around, searching for the grenade.

There.

In the makeshift trench they’d created, about fifty meters away, directly between Jenkins and Williams.

Well, fuck. She couldn’t lose her two best soldiers in one go. There was only one thing she _could_ do.

Shepard sprinted towards the slowly ticking explosive, praying to a god she didn’t believe in that she’d make it in time. She was faintly aware of Williams’ cry of, “Shepard, what the fuck are you – ?”

The ticking was almost as fast as Shepard’s heartbeat by the time she reached the grenade, giving her just enough time to pick it up and hurl it towards their enemy before it exploded. The shockwave made Shepard stumble and fall – it couldn’t have been more than a meter or two away when it went off.

A burst of gunfire cut through the smoke, proving that their enemy had also survived the explosion. Shepard swore.

“Shepard, what the fuck?” Williams demanded, running from the rock she had been behind to take cover with Shepard behind a tree. “You could’ve died!”

“I didn’t!” Shepard snapped back. “And neither did you or Jenkins. Now shut up and kill these bastards!”

“What the hell do you think we’re doing?” Jenkins spat. “If Smith and Battista could fucking aim, maybe we’d be making some more progress.”

Shepard sighed. The Alliance had given her a rookie squad to defend their outpost on Canae, and it was amazing they hadn’t lost anyone yet. If natural selection had had its way, Smith, Battista, and probably Jenkins would all be dead.

Thankfully, Shepard was stronger than natural selection.

She stood up out of cover, aiming down the modded barrel of her pistol, and shot a turian square in the temple. It – he? Shepard didn’t know, or particularly care – keeled over, distracting the turian squad just long enough for Shepard to take another one of them down. There was something sickeningly satisfying about watching the burst of blue blood explode from one of the spiky asshole’s heads, about hearing the way their teammates let out cries of fear.

A scream behind Shepard prevented her from shooting another turian; instead, she dove back into cover and tried to locate the source of the cry.

Smith, a girl of the esteemed age of 16, was shrieking in fear, pointing at something near the turian line. Shepard peeked out from her cover and saw what had Smith cowering in panic.

A huge turian with white face paint was charging through the no man’s land, murder in its beady eyes as it raised its assault rifle to shoot. Shepard roared, “Hostile approaching! Take it down!”

Her squad concentrated their efforts on the monster, but it absorbed the fire as if it were a bloodraging krogan. Jenkins yelled, “Commander, this isn’t working! What do we do?”

“Cease fire!” Shepard snarled, an idea rapidly forming in her battle-heightened brain. Turians and their ridiculously powerful shields could take a lot of fire, but they weren’t immortal. N-School had taught her where their weaknesses were, and it was about fucking time to use that knowledge.

“Respectfully, Commander, the fuck?” Battista, a scrawny 20-something, shouted back.

“I said cease fire!” Shepard hissed. Confused, her squad obeyed, ducking behind their covers.

Shepard could hear the turian approaching rapidly as she pulled up her omnitool and converted it into an omniblade. Her heart pounded. She had one chance at this, and if she missed or fucked it up, she and her whole squad were dead.

The turian reached her cover – it was time. As it looked around for her squad, Shepard spat, “Over here, you filthy motherfucker!”

The monster whirled on her, giving Shepard the perfect angle to leap towards it and sink her omniblade into the soft area inside its cowl. Cerulean liquid spurted everywhere, drenching Shepard, as the turian’s breath came in quick, wet gasps. It feebly tried to swing at her, but Shepard withdrew her omniblade and stabbed it again.

The turian staggered backwards, into clear view of its comrades, clutching at its mangled throat. Shepard could hear the cries of fear from the turian line and smirked – her plan had worked.

She shoved the dying monster over, not bothering to wait for it to die, and howled at her enemies, “You want his body, you bastards, you better come and get it!”

“Shepard, there’s too many!” Williams hissed, rising out of her cover just enough to make herself heard. “They’re going to overrun us!”

“No they won’t,” Shepard laughed, watching what little she could see of the turian line. “They’re scared now. They’re going to make mistakes.”

A soft thud behind her made Shepard turn before giving a yell of grief. Williams had been _too_ far out of cover – a turian sharpshooter had placed a single round in the center of her forehead. Shepard’s second-in-command was as dead as the turian at Shepard’s feet.

“Ash! No!” Shepard screamed. She whirled back to face no man’s land. “You…you fucking skullfaces! I’m going to make you wish you had never been alive!”

With this, it was _her_ turn to charge across no man’s land, firing almost haphazardly at the goddamn lizards that had killed her XO.

She was a sight to behold and to fear. Shepard, her raven-black hair flowing behind her, her entire body covered with bright blue blood, charging forward through the fog of war with her assault rifle roaring. Her face was contorted in a snarl of fury and grief, her gray eyes blazing with bloodlust, as she stormed towards the turian bunker.

Shepard knew she was going on a suicide mission. She didn’t care. These turians…these _monsters_ …deserved to die. She was a goddess of war, and she would end those who had hurt and killed those she loved.

She reached the bunker, swapping her rifle for a pistol in one hand and her omniblade on the other, and decimated the squad. By the time her blood rage had worn off, she was standing, panting, in a circle of dead turians, now almost as blue as an asari from all the blood.

One was missing, though.

The sniper.

“Find the sniper!” Shepard called to her remaining three soldiers, who had crept behind her through no man’s land.

“Fan out!” Jenkins, now the acting XO, told Battista and Smith, as he crept from cover to cover up a small hill.

“On it, s –” Battista’s voice cut off with a horrible gargling sound.

“Jose!” Smith screamed.

“Son of a _bitch!_ ” Shepard roared. She was no goddess of war…just one of death. Her practically immaculate record of not losing men was ruined, and she’d lost a man who loved her like an older sister. Fuck, she didn’t think her heart could break this hard.

“Jenkins, get up that hill and bring me back that motherfucker’s head!” Shepard snarled at her XO, while Smith sobbed. “Smith, get behind cover and stay there!”

“No! I’m not leaving Jose!” Smith cried as Jenkins charged up the hill.

Her loyalty was rewarded with a shot to the head, and her body collapsing next to her best friend’s. Shepard let out an involuntary cry of grief.

She all but cried into her comm, “Jenkins, any luck? The fucker got Smith too…”

Nothing but static.

Shepard was the lone survivor, battling another lone survivor, one with much better tactical positioning and odds.

For the first and last time in her career, Shepard retreated, sprinting for the nearby woods while bullets ricocheted off rocks and dirt around her. One hit her shoulder, causing her to stagger.

She had to escape, so that her commanders could come retrieve the bodies and push that last fucking skullface out of the most heavily fought over area on Canae. Death wasn’t an option.

It didn’t feel noble. It didn’t feel right.

Shepard was abandoning the men and women that had died for her, when she should’ve fought her way up the hill and torn the head off the sniper.

As soon as she was in the woods and safely hidden in a small animal den, she began to shake before tears streamed down her face. What little was left in her stomach from breakfast was vomited up as she thought of her dead squad.

Shepard closed her eyes, clutched her gun, and desperately hoped that they’d forgive her for her cowardice and retreat.

She knew that she never would.

 

“Sensors show hostiles about fifty meters away, sir,” Saren’s voice crackled through the comms.

Vakarian peered down from his sniper’s nest on the top of a hill. Five humans, relatively green by the looks of them. Three females with their freakishly long fringes, two bigger males. He smirked. His squad of nine could more than handle these pathetic humans.

It was tempting, he had to admit, to snipe the one who looked like the leader, a female with a long black fringe. But Tarquin was overdue for his colony marks, and Vakarian wanted him to be able to paint temporary ones with the blood of the first human he’d killed.

For such ugly creatures, Vakarian thought, humans had pretty blood.

“Nero. They’re fifty meters away at your 10 o’ clock, behind that cluster of rocks and fallen trees. Toss a grenade and force them out,” Vakarian ordered.

Nero, his giant of a demolitions expert, laughed as he obeyed.

Even from across the field, Vakarian could hear a piercing warning cry. He smirked again, waiting for the explosion that would cripple or kill the hostiles.

Suddenly, the human leader shot out of cover, sprinting towards the grenade. Vakarian could barely think “ _the hell?_ ” before the female picked it up and hurled it back towards his squad. It exploded in midair only a few meters from the humans’ position.

He had to admit, that was impressive.

For a human.

“Open fire!” Vakarian commanded, and his team obeyed. The humans responded with their own barrage, though theirs was much more poorly aimed. Typical humans, unable to hit a fucking target unless it was at point-blank range.

Granted, half of his team was relatively green and could barely hit the broad side of a cruiser at any significant distance. He wasn’t going to admit that aloud, though.

Neither team made any kills or headway until that damn human commander stood up again.

Her attempt to shoot over a fifty meter no man’s land was laughable – in fact, funnier than most of Caelus’s jokes – until Vakarian heard a gasp and thud from Cassia’s comm.

“Cassia?” Vakarian demanded over the comm, unable to see most of his team from his sniper’s nest.

“She’s dead!” Vetra, her girlfriend, wailed. “That fucking –”

Vetra fell with a similar weak gasp.

“That’s it!” Vakarian’s XO, Nihlus, snarled, tossing his own, less powerful, sniper rifle to the ground. He boosted his shields, pulled out his assault rifle, and charged towards no man’s land.

A suicide mission.

“Nihlus!” Vakarian yelled into the comm. “Get back here, you stupid fucker!”

“Respectfully, Vakarian, fuck off,” Nihlus snarled back as he easily covered ground, the humans’ shots ricocheting off his shields. “They killed my little sister.”

Vakarian sighed. Nihlus was as strong-willed as he was physically strong – there was no changing his mind. Cassia was all he’d had, with their parents dead. He would let his friend take the revenge owed to him.

Through his comms, Vakarian could hear the humans’ screams of terror as Nihlus approached them. He couldn’t help but laugh – that sound would never get old.

They’d clearly accepted their fate, too, their gunfire faltering before ceasing entirely as Nihlus came close to their position.

Then, suddenly, that spirits-cursed leader sprang from her cover behind a fallen tree, an omniblade on her hand as she lunged for Nihlus. Vakarian desperately yelled his friend’s name.

It was too late.

There was a horrible liquid noise through the comm before ragged gasps and gurgles were audible. Nihlus staggered forward, attempting to swing at the human, and disappeared behind the fallen tree.

Vakarian hung his head, unable to do anything but listen as his XO died. With Nihlus and the human behind cover, there was nothing he could do to save his brother in arms.

Another horrible spurting sound, Nihlus staggering backwards, and then no more but a pathetic _thud_ through the comms as his body hit the ground. Saren let out a cry of pain at his cousin’s loss before asking weakly, “What do we do? We’ve lost a third of the squad.”

“You want his body, you bastards? You better come and get it!” a human voice, that filthy leader’s, echoed across the battlefield.

Vakarian’s face contorted into a snarl at the taunt. Another one of the humans poked her ugly head out of cover, no doubt to gloat as well. Vakarian narrowed his eyes, took aim, and hissed, “We kill them.”

He fired once, his bullet meeting its mark and killing the human instantly.

The human commander’s scream was audible from Vakarian’s position, causing him to laugh. She had taken his men, so now it was time to take hers.

For the third damn time, the commander came out from behind cover, charging across the no man’s land like a pissed-off krogan.

Vakarian and his remaining soldiers took shots at her, but she moved too fast, their bullets meeting no target. With a visceral scream, she impaled Saren’s throat and shot Tarquin point blank in the forehead.

Nero shot at the female, a feeble attempt to defend himself before she all but beheaded him. Caelus, the youngest in the unit, turned to run, only to be shot in the back.

Visaeria, Vakarian’s cousin and his toughest soldier, faced off against the human with her own omniblade and pistol while Garrus aimed.

He pulled the trigger at the same time the human did.

He missed.

The human did not.

Visaeria crumpled to the ground like an abandoned doll as the human waved for her team to follow her across what had been no man’s land.

Vakarian let them think they were safe, watching them regroup before taking aim at the biggest male.

This time, he didn’t miss.

The younger female began to scream. The noise irritated his ears from this range, so Vakarian downed her too. The commander screamed in rage and shouted a command at the surviving male.

Only two left. Vakarian smirked. No problem. They would pay for his soldiers’ deaths with their lives.

Their plan was obvious. The male was creeping up the hill towards Vakarian’s sniper’s nest while the commander tried to locate him from the bottom of the hill.

He had picked his location carefully, though. It would be physically impossible for them to get up the hill without leaving the sparse cover that existed, and he knew exactly where they’d have to leave it.

The next time the male tried to sprint between rocks, Vakarian was ready. The male died, not even knowing what hit him. Vakarian laughed a little at that.

Now, to find the fucking commander. If he could catch her alive, he was going to flay her alive and make her beg for mercy before taking her to the Hierarchy. Normally, the thought of torturing prisoners made him sick, but after what that bitch had done to his unit…to his family…he wasn’t sure he minded so much.

To his great surprise, the female ran for it, heading towards the forest about 100 meters away. He laughed darkly.

For all her bravery in battle, she was a fucking coward.

Vakarian shot at her, clipping her shoulder. She staggered and ran faster, disappearing into the woods.

He snarled in disappointment before letting his tactical mindset return. He had to get back to a Hierarchy base to report what had happened and the loss of his men. They would send him back with reinforcements, and he would get his revenge.

Saying a prayer to the spirits for his fallen brothers and sisters, Vakarian slunk off into the forest.


	2. Retreat

“Shepard to SSV Intrepid! Shepard to FOB!” Shepard cried into her comm, for what felt like the thousandth time over the last 24 hours. “Someone _please_ copy!”

Static.

“ _Fuck!_ ” she screamed in frustration, throwing the flare she’d been holding clear across the meadow she stood in.

The last day had been the longest of her life. Very little food on this planet was edible for levo organisms, leaving her starving and weak in addition to afraid.

She hated to admit it, but _damn_ , she was afraid. That sniper had been ruthlessly accurate, annihilating her team like they were sitting ducks. Even when she was sprinting at full speed for cover, he’d managed to clip her and leave a wound that stung like a bitch.

And he was out there, somewhere. Probably looking for her the way she was looking for her commanders – and he was more than likely out for blood. If he found her, she was no better than dead.

Though she’d been in plenty of life-or-death situations before, this one terrified her beyond reason.

She couldn’t use the flare, or the turians would find her. She couldn’t make her way back to the forward operating base or her ship – it would take weeks to cross the planet. All she could hope for was getting within range of someone’s radio before she starved to death or got captured.

_Or died of sepsis_ , she thought grimly, looking at the bloody wound on her left side. The bastard had somehow landed his shot in the place that would do the most damage, destroying tissue and muscle and probably fracturing her collarbone. She’d cleaned it as best she could and liberally applied the little medigel she had left, but the wound was quickly starting to fester.

Shepard pulled up her map of Canae…or what passed for one, with how little of the planet had been successfully explored without the scouts getting killed. She was on the opposite side of the planet from the FOB, at least tens of thousand meters away.

What should she do? What _could_ she do?

Her comms had been damaged in the battle from the force of her omniblade attack on the charging turian. Generally, she’d be able to reach the FOB or the Intrepid from here, but no dice – just her luck.

A mountain, more a large hill than the mountains of Earth, caught her eye.

Perfect.

Scaling the mountain would put her at a high enough altitude for her comms to reach her commanders, hopefully. It only looked to be a few thousand meters away. She could do that, even on her hunger-weakened legs and with the bullet in her shoulder. She _had_ to do that.

It took her twice as long as it should have, almost four hours, before she reached the mountain. The last kilometer had been agonizing, as her barely-scabbed shoulder reopened when she tripped and fell over a stray tree root.

She did it, though. She’d made it to the base of what she’d dubbed Mount Doom, without running into any hostiles or getting shot by the sniper.

Didn’t mean it was easy, she scowled to herself. Every step out of cover had convinced her she was going to die without knowing what hit her, and that she could never relay her team’s heroism to their commanders. That sniper was in every shadow, behind every tree.

Fuck this paranoia. It wasn’t like her, and she hated it. She hated everything about this damn planet. The fear and weakness it had instilled in her, the pain it caused her…the lives it had taken from her. Canae wasn’t worth the human blood spilled over it.

It wasn’t even the turian blood spilled over it, and that was saying something. Their blood wasn’t worth the gum on the bottom of Shepard’s civvie shoes.

She staggered up the steep side of the mountain, torn between praying for help that she suspected wouldn’t come and praying for a quick and easy death at the sniper’s hands.

A wrong step, and her ankle twisted violently. Shepard let out a scream of pain, landing on her wounded shoulder as she tumbled to the ground. She managed to get back to her feet, but it was hard, and pain pulsed viciously through her ankle. It was most likely sprained at best, and broken at worst.

She’d never been lucky, but this was taking it to a new goddamn level.

Finally, painfully, slowly, she made it to the peak of the mountain, a bare summit ringed with trees about thirty meters down. It was the perfect location to make a call.

One last time, she cried, “Shepard to FOB! Shepard to SSV Intrepid!”

Silence.

No…not silence.

“Did you copy?” Shepard all but yelled into her comm, heart bursting with joy. “Please, copy!”

The whooshing noise got louder, causing Shepard to turn to look for its source.

The Intrepid, her beloved ship, was taking off from its docking position across the planet. Behind it, two more ships, which she recognized as the Dominant and the Sirius.

Where were they going? Last she’d heard, there were no plans to move any of the ships from Canae – another ship would bring reinforcements, and they had plenty of supplies. If that still held true…why were all three ships leaving?

Belatedly, realization hit her hard enough that she stumbled.

_All three ships were leaving_.

The Alliance was abandoning Canae.

And her along with it.

“You bastards!” Shepard screamed into the cloudless sunset. “Whatever happened to no man left behind?”

The ships picked up speed as they headed for space, each reaching lightspeed with a ‘pop’ as they vanished.

Shepard was alone. There was no doubt in her mind. The Alliance wouldn’t have taken its three powerful cruisers away, leaving troops behind. No chance in hell.

She was the only human on a planet full of flora, fauna, and hostiles that wanted her dead. Her odds were not good.

Well, she’d never put much stock in odds anyway. She’d just have to find a way to survive and get in contact with the Alliance, and get herself the hell off this damn planet.

First things first: food.

Shepard pulled out her pistol, slapped some medigel on her injured ankle, and trudged back down the mountain to find something edible to kill.

 

“THS Aegis, do you copy?” Vakarian asked, looking feebly down at his comm. He’d checked the damn thing a thousand times, but nothing was wrong with it – he was transmitting, but no one was answering. Why?

“I said, THS Aegis, do you copy?” Vakarian repeated desperately.

His initial plan had been a downright stupid one, fueled by grief and rage. There was no way he could get back to the Hierarchy’s main base, or even any of the outlying ones – the closest of those was almost thirty kilometers away, and he didn’t have the supplies to make it.

Besides. The entire point of going back to base was so the Hierarchy could recover the bodies of his team and lay them to rest on Palaven with the honors they deserved. By the time he reached the FOB, they’d have been torn to shreds by Canae’s spirits-cursed fauna.

He’d already lost his pistol and nearly his arm to some of Canae’s animals. Whatever it had been was four times the size of an elcor and at least twice as nasty as a krogan. It had charged from out of nowhere, taking down several trees in its fury, and ripped the pistol from his hand as he shot uselessly at it.

Thankfully, Vakarian had been the fastest and most agile in his class at boot camp.

Turians were not built to climb trees, but that was exactly what he had done to escape the creature. This tree had been too large for the creature to topple, but it had certainly tried for almost an hour.

Vakarian would rather die than repeat that experience, even if his death was at the hand of a human. Hell, he’d sooner space himself than willingly run into that monster again.

His thoughts returned to the issue at hand. He was stranded, alone, with almost no supplies and certainly no comm, in an area likely crawling with hostiles.

Well, Solana had always said he was good at fucking himself over.

He weighed his options. He could stay put and hope the Hierarchy would send soldiers out his way sooner or later – unlikely, before he died of thirst. He could head towards the closest base and do his best to scavenge for supplies in the meantime – more promising, but still bleak.

Or he could simply _get someone to answer his transmissions._

He had no idea why they were ignoring him. His initial calls had been desperate and pitiful, begging for reinforcements and for the extraction of his troops. Maybe they felt he had disgraced the Hierarchy enough with his pleas that they were just leaving him to die.

“Vakarian to THS Aegis…please copy…” he tried one more time, more for show than with any expect of an answer.

Nothing but deafening silence.

Vakarian kept moving anyway, heading in what he believed to be the location of the nearest outpost. Maybe he _was_ just slightly out of range, after all. Entirely possible, given the crude nature of humans’ communications arrays and how they tended to interfere with turian ones.

He sighed and trudged along a stream he had found, wishing desperately for Visaeria or Nihlus’s presences. Visaeria would find a way to turn the levo-protein water into something they could drink, and Nihlus would have found plenty of food for them by now.

They deserved to have been in the sniper’s nest, giving orders and hiding from battle. Not him. They should be alive, and yet here he was, a waste of a perfectly good turian, living and breathing instead.

Vakarian cursed, kicking angrily at the water. Before Solana’s birth, Visaeria had been the closest thing to a sister he had, and he’d watched her get her brains blown out while he hid like a coward.

It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. For all the turian military had preached to them, for all the ‘ _dulce et decorum est’_ s they got, it was all bullshit. There was nothing honorable or sweet about dying for one’s country. There was nothing good about death at all, unless it was forced upon a pathetic human.

He closed his eyes and could still see the image of the human leader burned into his brain. She had been too far for him to make out her facial features, but he could see her through his scope. Her long, braided black fringe, her battle cries, the blood-red ‘N7’ emblazoned upon her chest.

He vowed to Visaeria, Nihlus, and the rest of his team that if he ever, _ever_ found that human again, he’d kill her. No matter what the cost. Her life was forfeit, the way his deserved to be.

Mourning wasn’t going to feed him, though. He continued along the stream, kicking angrily at the water, before coming to a small meadow. An easy shot brought down what passed as a peaceful herbivore on his damned planet. What he wouldn’t do for water, though.

As he cooked and ate his meal, Vakarian looked up at the setting sun. He was at a higher elevation than he’d realized, the trees thin around his little meadow. The clouds were beautiful against the blaze of red from Canae’s overbright sun, little pink blobs against a darkening sky.

Then the entire sky turned black as a deafening roar became audible.

What the hell?

Vakarian watched the shadow pass over the clearing, baffled, before a massive set of white letters became visible. What were letters doing in the sky?

More importantly, he knew those letters.

_THS_.

A turian ship!

“Hey!” Vakarian cried, waving his hands and hoping to attract the attention of someone onboard the ship. “Down here!”

It kept moving, bringing new letters into view.

_Aegis_.

Vakarian stared at the ship in bewilderment. The Aegis hadn’t had orders to ship out for another three months, if ever. Why was it suddenly leaving?

It cleared the meadow, bringing sunlight back into the little grove. Suddenly, though, the sky was blotted out again.

Another ship?

Both the Ganymede and the Caeldon passed overhead before realization finally hit Vakarian.

The turian forces had been taking heavy losses over the past several weeks, but the ships wouldn’t leave if there were still boots on the ground.

The Hierarchy had given the order to retreat, leaving Vakarian behind.

His stomach churned. The Hierarchy either thought he was dead, or didn’t care that he lived. Either was disturbing.

Spirits, what would they tell his parents? What would Solana think?

Somehow, some way, he had to survive and get off this hellish planet. He would get home to Solana and his parents and relish their embraces. He would get home to his Aunt Flavia and Uncle Faustus and beg for their forgiveness for his part in Visaeria’s death.

He had to.

He pulled himself together, vowing to live no matter what it cost, and strode back towards the stream, determined to find a way to make the water drinkable.

He could make it. He _would_ make it.

He had to.


	3. Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter are rather graphic and deal with death. If the thought makes you uncomfortable, feel free to message me on Tumblr/leave a comment, and I'll fill you in on what you missed in this chapter.

Hunger.

Had Shepard ever known anything else?

From her childhood starving on the streets of London through the meager rations in boot camp to now, it felt like Shepard had known nothing but hunger and pain.

It had been four full days since the Alliance had abandoned her to die on Canae. Somehow, she wasn’t dead yet.

The rule of threes had haunted her, though.

Three minutes without oxygen. Three hours without shelter. Three days without water. Three weeks without food.

Oxygen was plentiful enough. The atmosphere of Canae was similar to Earth’s, a large part of why the Alliance had wanted the damn planet in the first place.

Shelter was somewhat harder. So far, she’d found little that was stable or sturdy enough to keep her safe from both the nightly rainfall and the massive predators she knew stalked the planet. Each night was spent in a new cave or ditch, or cowering under a tree or rock. Nothing was suitable for camp – nowhere was rainproof, predator-proof, and enemy proof, or even some combination of the three.

Water was, thankfully, in large supply. There were plenty of little streams around the planet, and the nightly rains gave her a good way to collect water in her helmet. The small mercy of Canae was that the water was levo-protein-based.

Food, though…god, food was impossible to come by. Shepard had yet to find any herbivores that she could hunt, and she wasn’t about to take a chance with the flora – with her luck, she’d eat something toxic. Besides. Her briefings on Canae came back to her, reminding her that the plants were dextro-protein-based anyway. Were the animals as well? She couldn’t remember.

Her only hope of getting food that she was positive wouldn’t kill her was to find an Alliance base and pray it had rations in an abandoned building.

Could she even make it to a base in her current condition? Four days without food was a hard toll on her. Even on Earth as a scrawny orphan, and even in N6 school, she’d had some kind of food every day. Even the tiniest scrap of shitty military rations or spoiled garbage had done _something_ towards appeasing her hunger.

She’d never felt this kind of pain in her life. Her stomach felt as though it was eating itself alive, twisting and knotting and roiling in discomfort, and her body had never felt so weak. All of her limbs were heavy and trembling and the world seemed to spin ever so slowly. Her armor was already fitting more loosely; she had clearly lost several pounds. The festering wound in her shoulder was nothing compared to the pain of the beginnings of starvation.

Shepard had learned very little about medical care in any of her training camps, but she knew that none of those were very good signs. Could she last until the Alliance returned?

A small part of Shepard was beginning to make peace with the fact she was likely to die on this goddamn planet. It was beautiful, at least, much prettier than the slums she’d grown up in in London. Maybe dying here wouldn’t be so bad.

She snapped back to reality. Commander Shepard, die on this forsaken rock in space? Die, killed not by a soldier, but by a stray shot and starvation? Abso-fucking-loutely not. No matter what the cost, she was going to live.

If only to give Admiral Grissom a piece of her goddamn mind for leaving her behind. Asshole.

There was no family waiting for her on Earth, but she’d get back to her old teammates. Kaidan, Joker, Vega…she’d get back to have drinks with those idiots one way or another. They still owed her a round or several after last time.

Finding food had been her priority over the past several days, but that had been a disastrously futile effort, almost as disastrous as her attempts to find shelter. She needed both badly, but the rule of threes said she needed shelter a _lot_ more badly.

Shepard pulled up her planet map on her omnitool. She’d made a lot more progress towards the closest FOB than she’d expected – she was maybe twenty kilometers away at this point. Her safest bet was to set up a well-fortified, easily defensible camp in a strategic area, leave it for the day or three it took to get to the FOB and back, and bring supplies back to camp with her.

Staying put, rather than staying on the move, was the easiest, best bet for the Alliance to find her if they returned.

It was also the best way for the turians to find her, but she was going to ignore that thought for now.

The topography feature on the map told her that there was very little in terms of easily defensible, strategic areas around her. Most of this area of the planet was flat, with a few hills here and there, and even more scattered mountains. She’d prefer a camp built into the side of the mountain she’d climbed the day after her squad died, but she’d left that behind several days ago. There was no point heading back there now, not when it put her further away from her goal.

There was one cliff, though, that could work. Shepard followed her map towards it, finding that a small stream ran along her route. Perfect – an easily accessible source of water would be close to home.

Well, whatever passed for home when one was abandoned on a hostile planet.

An hour later, Shepard arrived at what she had decided was going to be her campsite. It was a small copse of trees clustered around the base of the cliff, the river cutting through a hill not thirty meters away. The grove wasn’t so thick that she couldn’t escape in a pinch, but it was thick enough that it would be hard for a passerby to see her.

She spent another hour cutting through underbrush and small trees, building a little hut from branches and covering it with leaves and bushes. If she was going to live here for an indefinite amount of time, she was damn well going to be comfortable.

Satisfied that her work was done, Shepard cut a small path through the group of trees so only she could follow it, a way for her to find her way home on strange, untraveled ground. She marked the point on her map and turned around, ready to fight her way to the FOB and food if she had to.

It would take her one day in good health to walk to the FOB, but with her body weakened as it was by infection and hunger, she knew it would take at least two, if not three, to get there. It was going to be a long journey.

She didn’t even know if there would be a payoff when she arrived.

*

Thankfully, there was, albeit little.

The soldiers from FOB Churchill had left almost nothing behind despite the Alliance’s sudden haste to leave, but the storeroom had been somewhat forgotten.

Either that, or they just didn’t care to take lousy rations with them.

Half of what remained was expired, but Shepard shoved it in the pack she commandeered anyway. Food was food, and if it tasted a little off, it didn’t matter. Eating rations that tasted like dirt was better than _actually_ eating dirt.

She broke into the abandoned med clinic and took all the medigel she could find as well. With a shoulder turning a faint blackish-purplish color and a possibly-fractured ankle, she desperately needed something that would prevent her from dying of infection. Hopefully the units of medigel she collected would be enough until she healed or was rescued.

While at the FOB, after stealing all the supplies she could fit in her bag, Shepard stuffed herself with all the perishables she could find – fruit, vegetables, meat…anything.

She paid for it heavily.

She was hardly more than a kilometer away from the base on her return trip when her stomach churned violently and painfully. Shepard let out a cry, dropping her bag and retching violently.

In her desperation and hunger, she’d forgotten that the cure for starvation wasn’t to inhale all the food you could find. Just like a hot bath was bad for someone with hypothermia, or a bag of ice was bad for a burn, too much food after far too little could cause shock.

It made her even sicker to see all the food she’d just wasted. She vomited again, though it was only bile at this point.

She was pathetic and weak and hungry and tired, and she hated it. N6 School was supposed to prepare you for the worst, but all it did was make you feel more prepared than you actually were. Shepard had thought she could handle the world, when she couldn’t even handle a turian squad with an above-average sniper.

She cursed at herself, snarling aloud, “Thinking like that won’t get you anywhere. Get your shit together and get moving.”

Shepard made it back to her camp, which she affectionately called FOB London, and prepared a ration to eat.

It was the best damn food she’d ever eaten.

 

Vakarian had never been so sure he was going to die.

_Fuck_ , he would kill all over again to have a drop of water. He’d drink anything at this point. Water, alcohol…blood…he didn’t care. He needed _something_.

He knew he couldn’t make it much longer without shelter or water. Vakarian didn’t know how long, exactly, but he knew it wouldn’t be more than a few days at most.

The animals on this planet were vicious, and he’d narrowly avoided a few more of the creature that had chased him up the tree the day after he lost his squad. He needed a reinforced and defensible camp, or he was going to be something’s dinner.

The only problem was the damn terrain. It was flatter than Palaven’s southern salt flats, with the occasional hill or mountain here or there. Everywhere was a pretty shitty location to set up a camp for an undetermined duration.

Well, he had to camp somewhere. He chose a hill with a stream at its base near a steep rocky cliff. No enemies could easily approach from over the cliff, and his tactical position at the top of the hill gave him an excellent sniper’s nest.

From his nest, Vakarian swore he could see movement near the cliff, but he wrote it off as paranoia, or another of the planet’s herbivores. That was good to know – they tasted like shit, but food was food, and it was beneficial to have a herd of the creatures nearby.

He didn’t waste much time creating a pretty shelter, the way Visaeria or Nero probably would have. Vakarian couldn’t give a shit if his “tent” was structurally sound, so long as it kept most of the rain out and wouldn’t give him away to enemies. A few branches leaning against a tree, some leaves and scrub brush over it, and voila, a good enough shelter for Captain Vakarian.

Most important now was finding some fucking water. Or anything.

He couldn’t drink the water from the stream near his camp. That much he knew. It was levo-based, and he’d probably die at worst, or get no benefit at best.

If he was honest with himself, maybe dying from an allergic reaction was better than dying of thirst. He’d die with something resembling honor, taking his own life in a soldier’s final stand, rather than pitifully wasting away on a planet far from home.

Then again, if that was the case, he had a gun. He could just shoot himself. Probably less painful.

Oh, but the pain he’d cause Solana and his parents. Perhaps not his cold, uncaring father, but his gentle-hearted mother and baby sister…they would be heartbroken. No, he couldn’t die.

He’d see them again. He _had_ to make it back, to tell everyone about his squad’s heroic end. About how Vetra and Cassia needed to be buried together. About how Visaeria had died fighting.

How, then, would he do it? Visaeria had been the technically-minded one; she would’ve been able to jerry-rig something to convert the water to something drinkable. Vakarian was good with electronics; he’d give himself that. He could calibrate any ship, weapon, or device to run faster and smarter. But when it came to _building_ them…not so much.

Wait.

Visaeria _had_ built something that converted the water to something drinkable. She’d gotten bored at the FOB waiting for orders, so she’d tinkered around with some filters and chemicals and created some magical device that would be able to cure all his current problems.

Maybe not all, but some.

He _needed_ that device. Without it, Vakarian was definitely going to die here.

But…could he justify the cost of getting it? He’d be graverobbing his own blood, looting the body of the cousin he’d loved as a sister. Vakarian hadn’t even ensured a proper burial for her, so her spirit could rest, and he was going to have the nerve to go back and further humiliate her?

Would she care?

Vakarian sat down heavily, sighing and murmuring a quiet prayer to his cousin’s spirit. “Vis, can…can I have this? Your device? Please…and I’m sorry.”

A quiet rustle of wind through the trees, and silence.

What had he even been expecting? It wasn’t like Visaeria could pop out of the ground and say, “Sure, you big moron, go ahead and take it.”

He looked down and realized she _had_ sent him a sign.

A small flower had fallen in his lap. It was pale pink, streaked with bright red in an odd angular pattern.

Bright red, like Visaeria’s colony markings. It had to be a sign.

“Thanks, Vis,” Vakarian smiled sadly, gently setting the flower down in his makeshift tent and heading back towards what he thought was the direction of the battle that had taken his team.

*

It took another day, but he found the location of that disastrous battle. The humans had already started to rot, and one had been torn to shreds by a predator. Vakarian shuddered a little, catching himself in the midst of saying an instinctive prayer to the spirits.

They were humans. More importantly, they were the humans that had killed his team. They didn’t deserve his prayers or pity. They deserved what they had gotten.

He wasn’t entirely sure he believed the propaganda he was selling himself, but he shook off the uncomfortable thoughts anyway.

Vakarian made his way across the battlefield, delicately stepping between and over human bodies as he headed towards his team’s final resting places.

There they were.

An unwanted cry escaped Vakarian’s throat as he once again saw what remained of his team. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, howling in agony he’d brushed aside until now.

They were dead. They were _all_ dead.

Cassia and Vetra, the little lovebirds. Nero, the cocky but loveable lug. Caelus, the baby of the unit. Saren, the rugged soldier. Tarquin, the Primarch’s humble son.

Nihlus, Vakarian’s best friend. Visaeria, his own blood.

All of them, save Nihlus, in a pile, dead where that fucking human commander had killed them.

Nihlus, separated from the unit by distance in death the way he’d been separated by skill in life, lie a distance away, near the first human Vakarian had killed.

Vakarian hung his head. If he hadn’t killed that human, would the commander have gone beserk? Would his team be alive? Had the desire for revenge doomed his squad?

He shook his head to clear the thoughts. He couldn’t afford to entertain thoughts like those right now – he had to focus on surviving, so he could tell their stories of bravery.

Vakarian’s stomach churned violently as he found Visaeria’s body in the pile of dead turians. He reached out a tentative hand to roll her over, to find her pack, and couldn’t take it.

He retched violently, limbs trembling. Was his desperation for survival enough to overcome his disgust and emotions at rooting through Visaeria’s things?

It had to be.

Vakarian steeled himself and rummaged through Visaeria’s pack, finally finding her little device and putting it in his own pack.

“Thank you, Vis,” Vakarian whispered.

He found the nearest stream and drank water until he vomited, and then drank more to replace what he had lost. Even grimy river water tasted better than anything else he’d ever drank.

When he’d had his fill, Vakarian returned to the battlefield and fashioned a makeshift shovel from a piece of rock and a tree branch.

If nothing else, his team deserved a proper burial until their people would return for them. He marked the location of the burial ground on his map and began to work. 

The grim, lonely funerals took place long into the night.


	4. Crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, I'm alive!  
> I just got a brand new job and had to move suddenly, start work, and unpack. Bear with me as I try to continue writing this while being exhausted 10000% of the time.

Pain woke Shepard from a tumultuous sleep. It tore through her shoulder, throbbed in her ankle, and gnawed at her stomach.

She moaned, curling into a ball and weakly hugging herself. The pain was excruciating, worse than anything she’d felt before. It felt like death.

Another dose of medigel relieved the ache in her ankle, while breakfast satiated her stomach. Her shoulder, though…that was a different story. Any touch felt like an omniblade through her clavicle, while the pressure of her armor only added sharp pangs down her arm.

The armor had to come off. There was no other way – her wound was worsening by the day, and the sweaty, blood-soaked confines of kevlar couldn’t be helping. At this rate, she was more likely to die of sepsis from her armor rather than be protected from gunfire by it. It had to go.

Shepard made her way from her camp, stumbling to the stream nearby. She needed water at any rate, to drink and to clean her wound. Might as well let her armor be washed away as well – it would make it harder for any lurking turian bastards to find her.

She drank her fill before realizing she couldn’t put off the inevitable anymore. The armor had to go, and it was going to hurt like a bitch.

Off came her leg and arm bracers, her helmet, her right shoulderplate. Into the stream they went, slowly floating away, slowly freeing Shepard from the confines of the Alliance.

Shepard hesitated only a moment longer before ripping her left shoulderplate and breastplate off in one go. She was unable to bite back her scream of pain, a shriek that morphed into a sob as she collapsed into the fetal position.

She’d known plenty of pain before this, but _fuck_ if this wasn’t the worst she’d ever experienced.

When the worst of it passed, Shepard turned to look at her injured shoulder. Even through the tattered remains of her undershirt, she could see it was bad, but miraculously better than she had expected.

Her first stroke of good luck since she set foot on this goddamn planet.

Shepard carefully cut the sleeve off her shirt, freeing her injury and allowing her to wash it. The cool water stung, but the relief it provided was almost blissful. She laid there a while, shoulder in the water, and nearly dozed off – the first time she’d felt so relaxed in days.

A twig snapped in the woods nearby, and any semblance of peace was gone. Shepard shot back up to her feet, pulling her pistol from her belt.

She was silent as the grave, scanning the woods with her heart pounding. She was in an extremely vulnerable, indefensible location, wide out in the open with no cover nearby. Her camp was a few hundred meters away, but she wasn’t sure she could get there without alerting her enemy to her presence.

Shepard crept towards the treeline before hearing more footsteps behind her. Something was stalking her now. It had to be.

She said a silent apology to her team, a shitty, “sorry for dying after you died for me,” and whirled around with her pistol raised, just as something emerged from the trees.

A turian.

It took the turian a moment to notice her, but when it did it froze, startled.

“Step any closer and I’ll fucking kill you!” Shepard screamed, voice trembling. She was more scared than she was willing to admit, alone and injured, facing off against an enemy naturally larger and stronger than her.

It charged.

Adrenaline surged through Shepard’s veins and she pulled the trigger wildly as she turned to run.

_Click click click._

That wasn’t the right sound.

Almost thirty full seconds later, it hit her.

She was out of ammo.

“Fuck!” Shepard hissed, tossing the pistol to the side and willing herself to run faster.

The footsteps behind her indicated the turian was catching up.

Shepard skidded to a stop, turned to face her pursuer, and threw the hardest punch she’d ever thrown.

 

Vakarian reeled, stunned by the strength of the human’s blow. She seemed pleased, smirking viciously before tackling him to the ground.

There wasn’t a flying chance in hell that Vakarian was going to lose a wrestling match to a human. She was fast and agile, sure, but he was stronger than her. This was a poor decision she’d pay for with her life.

With a feral growl, he grabbed the human, flung her off of him, and slammed her into the ground. She let out a scream of pain, a noise that brought Vakarian twisted pleasure, accompanied by a slight twinge of guilt.

He shoved the guilt aside as the woman summoned her omni-blade and tried to stab him.

Guilt wasn’t going to get him anywhere, not with a human.

Vakarian grabbed a stray branch lying in the clearing and swung it at the human, dazing her badly. As she stumbled around, trying to regain her bearings, Vakarian gave her a hard kick to the stomach, knocking her back down.

She cried out again, and the turian finally noticed why – a large wound had reopened on the human’s shoulder, covering the ground with drops of scarlet blood.

His opponent was wounded. Excellent. Well, he’d put her out of her misery.

The human dodged his next blow, scrambling for footing as she evaded him. Spirits, she was fast. He’d just have to wait for her to tire – that wouldn’t take long.

The human gave a battle cry and threw herself at Vakarian, again knocking both of them to the ground. Her small, frail hands scrabbled for purchase against his armor, clearly trying to find a weak point.

Was this woman really trying to strangle Vakarian? It was a laughable concept, and Vakarian couldn’t hide his snort of amusement as he retaliated. It only took one hand to lift the human up and off of him, pin her to the ground, and find a good grip around the woman’s scrawny neck.

She wheezed and gasped, feebly fighting his grip. Her nails did nothing against Vakarian’s hard dermal plates, and her kicks against his stomach merely tickled, if anything.

To her credit, Vakarian had to admit, she didn’t stop fighting. Even as her eyes grew more bloodshot, as her lips slowly lost color, she continued to kick and claw for her life.

As her body started to twitch in the throes of death, gray eyes met Vakarian’s blue, and everything changed.

Vakarian had never killed up close before. He was a sniper, an angel of death, but one who never had to deal with the consequences of it. Killing was practically a game for him.

Not now. Not with this human.

Her stormy eyes were filled with animalistic fear – the fear of pain, the fear of the unknown…the fear of dying.

No…it wasn’t animalistic. It wasn’t just human, either.

It was intelligent, and it was achingly familiar for Vakarian. Hadn’t Vetra had the same fear in her voice when she watched Cassia die in front of her? Wasn’t the same expression permanently fixed on Visaeria’s corpse?

He couldn’t do it.

Vakarian released his grip on the human’s throat and took a graceless step back, willing his hands to stop trembling. The woman gasped for air, coughing and hacking at the sudden influx of oxygen.

There was a long quiet, broken only by the woman’s coughs and breaths, before she turned to look at him, her brow scrunched in confusion.

“You let me go,” she said. Her voice wasn’t accusatory, but matter-of-fact.

“Yes,” Vakarian managed after a long silence.

“Why?” she asked. “We’re enemies.”

“I…” Vakarian stopped. He had no idea how to put into words the revelation he’d just experienced. How could he tell her that after so much violence and death, he’d finally realized that they were ultimately similar creatures?

“If you’re going to try again, just fucking shoot me,” the woman went on. “Make it quick. You’re armed. I’m not.”

“I’m not either,” Vakarian admitted. His sniper rifle was left behind in his camp, because he was a moron. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“That’s funny,” the woman snorted in disdain. “Your kind _are_ liars, then.”

Vakarian prickled at the insult but didn’t grace it with a reply. He looked the woman up and down, finally noticing something. “You’re an engineer.”

“Was,” the human said. “That was a long time ago.”

Vakarian wasn’t going to sell himself short – he was an excellent sniper, soldier, and calibrator of equipment. _Building_ said equipment…that was something else entirely. But this human…that was her specialty. Could she build or steal him something to help get him off the planet?

“I think we can help each other,” Vakarian said after a long pause.

“Shit, that’s something you don’t hear every day,” the woman laughed.

When she realized he was serious, she quieted. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “The Hierarchy withdrew from this planet. I’m stranded here. But you…you could help me get home. I’ll let you live if you help.”

Again, the human laughed. “You’re just as SOL as I am, skully. The humans withdrew too. Guess it’s just you and me on this rock.”

“Then get us both home,” Vakarian insisted. “You want to live as much as I do, don’t you?”

“Listen carefully, bird boy. I watched my whole team die on this godforsaken piece of earth. Don’t you _dare_ tell me I don’t want to get home. Of fucking course I do. Doesn’t mean it’s possible. The Alliance left practically nothing behind,” the woman spat.

“Neither did the Hierarchy,” Vakarian sighed.

They stood there in awkward, uncomfortable silence, before the woman said, “I don’t have to like it, but you’re my best chance of survival here.”

Vakarian regarded her curiously, but the woman refused to say any more. He finally continued, “…so we’d best work together. For now.”

The human nodded. “Don’t think I won’t kill you if I have any reason to think you’re going to double-cross me.”

Vakarian simply nodded as well. The woman went on, holding out a hand, “Name’s Shepard.”

“Vakarian,” he replied, regarding her hand strangely.

She sighed, dropped it, and said, “We’d best make a camp together. Who knows what’s out here trying to eat us.”

With this, Shepard headed off towards a nearby cliff, clearly expecting him to follow.

Despite the fact Vakarian was now allied with his race’s mortal enemy, something about Shepard made him feel more at ease.

Maybe he would make it, after all. Maybe _they_ would make it.


	5. Baby Steps

Almost immediately, their alliance turned to stony silence.

They had agreed to return to Shepard’s camp, so she could retrieve her belongings, before setting up a new camp that suited both of them.

And she hadn’t spoken since that agreement, almost ten minutes ago.

It made Vakarian intensely uncomfortable. He always had friendly banter with his teammates, even from the time he was in boot camp. He wasn’t sure how human command structures worked, but he was pretty sure this silence was uncharacteristic for them, as well.

“Um…Shepard?” Vakarian asked quietly, desperate to break the silence.

“What?” Shepard snapped back.

“I…er…” Vakarian stammered, unsure of what to say. Shepard hadn’t seemed friendly before, not by any means, but he hadn’t expected his new ally to be this _un_ friendly. “Um…what’s your planet like?”

“Why, so you know where to vacation if you win the war?” Shepard scowled. She started walking faster, almost as if she was trying to escape his company.

“We’re a team now, right?” Vakarian persisted, trotting to keep up. “I just…am curious.”

“We’re a team because we have to be. Don’t think I’d have done it if there were another way,” Shepard glared at him. “I have no interest in being friends with a damn skullface.”

Vakarian bristled, annoyed at his new comrade’s demeanor, and replied petulantly, “I never said anything about being friends.”

“Good. Because your people killed some of mine, and you better consider yourself damn lucky I don’t kill _you_ because of it,” Shepard growled.

“Don’t think that makes you special,” Vakarian snapped back. “We’ve all lost people. It’s a spirits-cursed _war_.”

“Didn’t expect you to have an ounce of sympathy,” Shepard grumbled, turning an angry shoulder towards him and walking even faster.

Vakarian rubbed his temples, angry and frustrated. This human was more vitriolic than a pissed-off krogan, and it was testing his already-frayed nerves. He was _trying_ to be civil, as civil as he could be to a member of the race that was known for the brutal ways it killed his people. Crude weapons and crude tactics…made by a crude people.

It was tempting to just kill her, to finish what he’d started in the meadow they were nearly out of. Vakarian was strong and smart – he could probably hold his own on this damned planet.

The “probably” tore at him. He wanted to get home…needed to. Between his mother’s frail health and his sister’s impending enlistment, on top of having his team’s remains recovered, he couldn’t die here.

Even if this human was making it seem like a more promising alternative than teamwork.

He sighed, ran to catch up to her, and said, “So…it’s starting to get dark. Where should we camp for the night?”

“Why’re you asking me, Mr. ‘Don’t Want to be Friends?’” Shepard scowled.

“Because like it or not, we’re partners now,” Vakarian replied, forcing himself to be calm and rational. “And I don’t think either of us are willing to die here just to spite the other.”

This drew a laugh from Shepard, a real, genuine laugh, not a bitter one. “You’re right. My camp is nearby, and secure. We could stay there for the night and go get your shit from your camp in the morning. Then we’ll set up a new camp – one where we know neither of our militaries know the location.”

Even when her guard was down, Shepard was still incredibly distrustful, based on her final comment. But fair, Vakarian had to admit. Her plan was simple, reasonable, and surprisingly fair.

He nodded.

“Good. So, uh, I’ve got no idea what the fuck turians eat, but, uh, I have enough rations for the night. They’d probably kill you, though,” Shepard went on, leading the way through a narrow path in the copse of trees they’d entered.

“Never tried levo food before, but I don’t really want to,” Vakarian replied. “I’ve got some rations left over, and the animals here are dextro-based.”

“Good. So, we won’t starve. I don’t know what kind of shelter you bony assholes like, either. I’ve got some spare supplies I…repurposed…from an abandoned Alliance base. Use whatever you need,” Shepard said.

“Thanks,” Vakarian said, and he meant it. It surprised him, feeling gratitude towards someone he’d recently fought nearly to the death.

It was uncomfortable, but somehow…reassuring.

Shepard nodded, also looking uncomfortable. “No problem. I’ll…uh…get a fire started to cook dinner.”

 

They ate in silence, but it felt better than any of their previous conversations had. Vakarian watched Shepard from time to time, when she was focused on her meal.

She looked vulnerable now, and almost happy. Whatever she was eating was clearly pleasing to her, as she hummed with contentment from time to time. It was…almost cute. When they weren’t trying to murder everything, humans were rather adorable. Small, fragile, squishy…if they weren’t vicious to go along with it, they’d almost make good pets.

Well, if they weren’t also sentient beings.

What an odd tangent for his mind to take, Vakarian thought. Were delusions an effect of being around humans for too long?

“You’re staring at me,” Shepard’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “I don’t know about you, but humans don’t usually watch each other eat. It’s kind of creepy.”

“Sorry,” Vakarian replied, slightly abashed. “I…zoned out. Do humans do that?”

“All the time,” Shepard chuckled slightly. “One of my foster moms used to do it at the worst times.”

“Foster mom?” Vakarian echoed.

Shepard’s expression changed, turning from vulnerable and content to harsh and guarded again. “Don’t worry about it. Nunya.”

“Nun…ya?” the word felt very strange in Vakarian’s mouth.

“None of your business,” Shepard snapped.

So much for trust.

Vakarian sighed and returned to his dinner, the silence feeling tense once more.

 

Night fell quickly. Vakarian’s head slowly sank from its normal proud position, down, down, down, until his chin rested on his chest.

“I’ll take first watch. Go to sleep,” Shepard said, noticing the turian’s sleepiness.

“Not on your life,” Vakarian mumbled back, head snapping back up. He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll take it. You need sleep. You’re the one that almost died today.”

“Why, so you can kill me while I’m asleep?” Shepard growled. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.”

Vakarian glared at her. “Fine. I suppose neither of us will sleep tonight then.”

Shepard scowled, crossed her arms, and glared right back. “Fine.”

Vakarian rolled his eyes and retreated to his shelter for the night.

Shepard remained by the dying campfire, sleep refusing to overtake her.

Her entire life, she’d been a loner. She’d been on her own since the age of ten, and even when she worked with a team, she remained fiercely independent. But now, with Vakarian…she couldn’t stay entirely independent.

Like it or not, she needed him. And he needed her. She didn’t need a computer to tell her that the odds of survival for an individual were just about zero. Shepard was independent, but not stupid – she’d do what it took to survive. She’d been doing that since before she’d hit puberty.

At the same time, she _hated_ him. Turians like him were cruel, vicious, violent creatures who were known for how brutally they killed humans. One of them had killed her team.

No…she didn’t entirely hate him. He was different, somehow. He’d spared her, for whatever reason, and he was at least attempting to be civil.

Better than she could say about herself.

Shepard sighed. Her civility was the only thing that had ever been lacking, according to her superiors. A life on the streets hadn’t done much for her manners, that was for sure.

But Vakarian was her ally now, like it or not. She should at least make an effort to pretend to get along, at least. He had shown her unexpected, and frankly, undeserved kindness. Shepard made a mental note to herself to try to repay that kindness – after all, she owed him her life.

What would her commanders say if they saw her being friendly with a turian?

For once, Shepard didn’t care. Fuck them all – they’d left her to die. Vakarian hadn’t.

 

The walk to Vakarian’s camp from Shepard’s the next morning was an extremely long one, considering Shepard’s still-sore ankle and her now-oozing shoulder wound.

“We’re about halfway there,” Vakarian proclaimed once he’d crested a hill, checking his omni-tool. He turned behind him and glanced at Shepard, who was still limping up the hill. “Shepard?”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, wincing in pain.

“Riiiight,” Vakarian drawled, looking extremely unconvinced. “What’s wrong?”

“Bullet in my shoulder and a twisted ankle,” Shepard grunted in reply, finally reaching the top of the hill. “I’ve had just as bad before. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” Vakarian raised a skeptical browplate. “Can you make it to my camp? Do you want to wait here?”

“Why, so I can get eaten by something?” Shepard chuckled. She’d always used humor to hide her fear and pain – she was experiencing both in large supply at the moment. Her doctor had once told her it was an unhealthy habit, but Shepard didn’t really care. “I’ll take a hard pass.”

“Here,” Vakarian said, walking over to Shepard. He bent down, taking her arm and putting it around his shoulders.

“The fuck?” Shepard hissed, recoiling away from his touch.

“I’ll carry you. It’s not too much further,” Vakarian replied.

What was she, a blushing maiden? Having her knight in shining armor carry her away from danger? Hell no.

“I can walk, thank you very much,” Shepard snapped, shoving him away again and storming off.

Well, attempting to.

Her ankle gave out and she landed with a shriek, her injured shoulder colliding hard with the ground. Vakarian walked over to her, sighed, and picked her up, cradling her in his arms.

“Right. You can walk,” Vakarian rolled his beady eyes. “I’m carrying you, and that’s an order, soldier.”

“Fine,” Shepard said petulantly, crossing her arms and scowling ferociously as Vakarian made his way down the far side of the hill.

Despite the fact that he had almost killed her barehanded yesterday, there was something almost…gentle about how he carried her, something far more intimate and trusting than Shepard expected. If she was in a vulnerable position, being carried, he was in one too, with her and her omni-blade very close to all his vital organs.

Maybe, just maybe, trusting Vakarian could work out.


	6. Fragile

Vakarian was incredibly strong, Shepard had to give him that. He’d carried her dead weight several kilometers without so much as breaking a sweat, although he looked to be getting somewhat winded.

“Camp’s…just up ahead,” Vakarian announced, strain becoming evident in his voice.

“I can walk from here,” Shepard insisted, not for the first time.

“We’ve made it this far; it’ll be fine,” Vakarian brushed her off, tromping through more underbrush.

A few minutes, and they arrived at Vakarian’s makeshift camp at the top of a hill. His shelter was shoddy, but otherwise the camp looked as defensible as Shepard’s. They were both clearly tactical thinkers.

That pleased her, for some reason.

Vakarian set her down against a tree and gave her some omni-gel before heading into his messy lean-to. Shepard watched him pack his few belongings with interest.

Watching Vakarian was much like watching an apex hunter, Shepard found. He moved quickly, with a predatory grace, even when doing something as mundane as packing. There was something oddly satisfying about it. It was terrifying to be teamed up with something so clearly built for killing, but strangely reassuring as well. If he could kill her, he could _definitely_ kill anything that was trying to kill them.

She’d never really paid attention to anything about turians before, except how to kill them. They were ugly motherfuckers, that was for sure, with their hard skin and beady eyes, but they weren’t all bad. The plates extending from Vakarian’s head had a pretty curve to them, and the rumbling noise he made as he quietly talked to himself felt like the gentle roll of thunder.

When the hell had she become a fucking poet?

“Do your people all stare at each other like this?” Vakarian asked in a lilting voice, breaking Shepard from her thoughts.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she snarled, her previous day’s vow to be kinder completely forgotten.

“Don’t think I didn't notice,” Vakarian replied lightly. “I mean, I know I’m a pretty good-looking guy, but I didn’t think you’d be into the whole interspecies thing.”

Shepard hauled herself to her feet, hands clenched into fists, and took a faltering step towards him to punch him before realization hit her.

He was teasing her.

“Woah, easy,” Vakarian raised his hands in surrender. “Shit, I thought we’d be at that point now. Can’t take a joke. That’s fine. No more jokes.”

“I can too take a goddamn joke,” Shepard scowled childishly, sitting back down with her arms crossed.

“Riiiight,” Vakarian drawled, clearly not believing her. He slung a pack over his shoulder and went on, “Well, let’s get going. That’s all I needed.”

Shepard sighed as she let Vakarian pick her up like a helpless child. She’d blown that one.

_Damn it, Eve!_ she mentally chided herself. _You’re supposed to be_ nice, _not a crazy bitch!_

And therein lay the rub. Shepard didn’t know how to be nice, unless it came with an instruction manual or code. Machines? She was great with machines. They didn’t generally talk back, and they did what she needed. People? Not so much.

As Vakarian carried her down the hill, guilt and shame ate at her. Here her new comrade was, treating her like a goddamn queen, and she wouldn’t give him the time of day. She needed to get her shit together and start acting like the teammate she knew she could be.

“They raised me, y’know,” she blurted out, out of nowhere.

“Um?” Vakarian managed.

Shepard sighed again. “Yesterday you asked about foster parents, what they were. They raised me.”

Vakarian was quiet for a moment, contemplating the information he’d just been given. Eventually he asked, “What makes them different from normal parents?”

“I didn’t have those. They died from drug overdoses,” Shepard replied. Only her commanders knew that information – even Ash, her closest friend, hadn’t. “They put me in a system on Earth where other people took me in and took care of me. But they never kept me long.”

“Why?” Vakarian asked.

“Dunno. I wasn’t a great kid,” Shepard shrugged. “I ran away when I was ten. Took care of myself ever since.”

“Explains a lot,” Vakarian said simply. He paused. “Why did you tell me that?”

Shepard shrugged again, after a long moment of thought. “Seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, you asked.”

“I’ve asked you a lot of things,” Vakarian said. “You didn’t tell me much.”

“Can it, skully,” Shepard scowled. “If you’re going to be a douche about it, I’m not going to tell you anything else.”

“Easy,” Vakarian chuckled. “You really can’t take a joke.”

Shepard’s scowl only grew. Vakarian went on, “We should probably find a place to camp. You’re getting heavier, and it won’t be light forever.”

“Well, we should probably set up camp between a human and turian outpost, so we can get supplies for ourselves,” Shepard replied.

“So…where’s the closest human base?” Vakarian asked.

Shepard laughed boisterously. “Are you really that stupid?”

Vakarian blinked, caught off guard by her shift in demeanor. She went on, “There’s not a flying chance in hell I’m telling you any information like that about the Alliance. You tell me where the closest skullface base is, and I’ll figure out a location in between.”

“And why should I tell you that?” Vakarian replied, looking immensely peeved. “You don’t trust me. Why should I trust you?”

“As I recall, _you_ were the one who proposed teaming up,” Shepard shot back.

Vakarian sighed, rubbing his temples. “Where, exactly, do you want to camp, if you won’t tell me where your base is, and I won’t tell you mine?”

“I’m injured and have a busted comm. What the hell would I do if I knew where your base was?” Shepard snorted. “Get the stick out of your ass, skully. I’m not _that_ determined to kill you bastards. Come on, let’s get moving.”

Even more annoyed, Vakarian obeyed, albeit with a childish, “Enough with the nicknames, unless you want me to call you ‘squishy.’”

“Sticks and stones, skully,” Shepard laughed. “Whatever you call me, I’ve been called worse.”

“Fair enough. My father has some pretty creative words for humans,” Vakarian shrugged.

“I don’t give a shit what your people call mine,” Shepard waved him off. “Mine have called me worse.”

This piqued Vakarian’s interest. “Your people are cruel to each other?”

Shepard laughed. “Aren’t yours?”

“Not without reason, usually,” Vakarian replied, raising a browplate at Shepard.

She suddenly became very quiet, glaring up at him. “Think what you want about me. This conversation’s over.”

 

Vakarian was surprised to find the silence between them unpleasant. It had lingered for almost twenty minutes, while Shepard periodically pointed him in a direction towards the nearest human base.

When the twenty minutes dragged on into an hour, Vakarian asked, “Shepard?”

“What?” she snapped back.

“I…think this might be a good place to camp. Does that work?” Vakarian replied.

She looked around, straining to see around Vakarian’s broad shoulders. After a moment she seemed pleased and said, “Yeah, sure. This works.”

He set her down and set to work building a fire. The days on this planet were ridiculously short, and day was already beginning to morph into dusk. They needed light, or they were going to get ambushed by something that wanted to eat them. Plus, they needed to eat.

“What’s your planet like?” Shepard asked, watching him work. She was beginning to whittle down sticks to make a shelter with, but she didn’t seem to need to watch herself work – her gray eyes remained locked on Vakarian.

“Why, so you know where to vacation if you win the war?” Vakarian asked wryly. The repetition of her earlier accusation made Shepard wince.

“No. I, er…” Shepard mumbled, abashed. “…am curious.”

“Palaven’s beautiful,” Vakarian replied. “The sun there is strong, stronger than I’ve read it is on your planet. But that just makes everything brighter and more striking. Our sunsets…there’s nothing in the galaxy like them.”

Shepard smiled – it was a soft, gentle smile, one Vakarian hadn’t seen from her before. “That sounds nice. I love sunsets.”

“Except here,” Vakarian chortled. “Here, it means something’s trying to eat you.”

Shepard laughed, a musical sound. “Yeah. You’re right.”

She was quiet before continuing, “You mentioned your father. What’s _your_ family like?”

“My father is in the military. We…don’t get along. My mother is a civilian because of her illness. We don’t think she’ll make it more than a few more years. And my younger sister, well…it’s her turn to go to boot camp soon. I hope she doesn’t get hurt,” Vakarian replied. It felt surprisingly good to talk about home.

“I wonder what it must be like, having siblings,” Shepard sighed. “It was always just me. I didn’t even trust my friends. I’ve always wished I had someone to help keep me on my feet.”

“You really had no one?” Vakarian asked, awed.

“My foster parents never really trusted or liked me. I got tired of it and ran away. When you live on the streets, you can’t trust anyone but yourself. I had friends, sure, but at the end of the day, it was just me,” Shepard replied.

Vakarian could picture it – Shepard, even smaller than she was now, fiercely independent and rowdy, living on the streets of what he imagined an Earth city was like. It was quite the striking picture.

“Eh, you don’t care about my sob story,” Shepard said, and it took Vakarian a moment to realize she’d kept talking. “No one cares.”

“We’re a team, Shepard,” Vakarian replied instead. “It’s my job to care.”

She smiled again, but it was forced. “Right. Thanks, big guy.”

Well. “Big guy” was an improvement from “skully,” so he’d take it.

Shepard passed him her rations and he began to cook their dinners over the fire while she limped to the nearest tree and began making their shelter from it and the sticks she’d whittled.

When her task, and dinner, were done, she hobbled back over and sat down, tearing into her meal like she’d never seen food before.

Vakarian ate more slowly, enjoying his meal, while Shepard finished hers and began to tend to her injuries.

His dinner finished, Vakarian pulled his sniper rifle and a rag from his pack, setting to work on his usual task of cleaning his gun. It hadn’t been cleaned for days in the chaos of the Hierarchy’s abandonment of him, and that was going to be hell for the trigger mechanism.

It was almost ten minutes later when he noticed Shepard watching him. Then, suddenly, everything changed.

He realized she’d let her long black fringe – she called it hair – down from its braid. It was beautiful and strange all at once, just as Shepard was both beautiful and strange.

Then he remembered seeing the enemy leader through his scope, a human female with a long black fringe. A female he’d shot…in the shoulder.

At the same moment, Shepard’s expression turned from one of peaceful trust to abject horror, as she realized what the sniper rifle in Vakarian’s hands truly meant.


	7. Broken

“Y-you…” Shepard stammered, pointing with a trembling hand at Vakarian’s rifle. “You’re a sniper.”

“You’re…her,” Vakarian replied, his voice as shaky as her body. “The human commander.”

The fear that clouded her smokey eyes was instantly replaced with rage. She leapt to her feet, wincing only momentarily with pain from her injured foot, hands clenched into fists.

“You _fucking_ bastard!” Shepard roared, pointing an accusatory finger at Vakarian. She adopted a mocking impression of him, hissing, “‘You can trust me, Shepard.’ ‘I’m not like other turians, Shepard.’ You fucking…skullface! You’re all the fucking same. You’re not worth the dirt my team died on!”

“Don’t act so innocent, you cowardly bitch!” Vakarian snarled back. He slowly got to his feet, rising to his full height, towering over the little injured human. Maybe it was time he finish the job he’d started several days prior. “Your team wasn’t the only one who died back there! Mine had _children_ on it – two of them had just left boot camp! They weren’t even sixteen!”

“Maybe your people shouldn’t send their children into war, then,” Shepard spat. “But that would involve a dignity and compassion you fucking animals don’t seem to have!”

Vakarian called up his omni-blade, storming over to Shepard with the full intent to kill her. His breaths came in harsh bursts, his chest tight with anger, as he stopped himself, holding the tip of his blade to her throat.

“The only animal I see here is you, human,” Vakarian growled. “You murdered an entire team without a second thought and ran away like the coward you are when faced with an equal opponent. You’re not a soldier. You’re not a leader. You’re a goddamn fraud! It’s not my fault your team is dead – it’s yours!”

Shepard’s face twisted with rage and she trembled with barely-constrained fury. She breathed back, “You want to say that again, skully?”

“I’ll say it as many times as you want,” Vakarian smirked, knowing he’d hit a weak point. “Your team’s deaths are on you. If you hadn’t been such a gloryseeking big-shot, they’d still be alive. But no, getting all your shiny medals was more important to you than their lives.”

The clarity of rage and pain in Shepard’s eyes terrified Vakarian for a moment. She managed, “ _Nothing_ was more important to me than their lives.”

Shepard cleared her throat and went on, voice stronger, “War is just a game to your kind, Vakarian. And it’s not one I’m going to play with you. You want to survive? Do it alone.”

With this she grabbed her pack and stormed off into the woods, her pronounced limp barely slowing her down.

Vakarian picked up his sniper rifle again, just to be sure he was ready if Shepard came back. If she did, it was for blood.

As the heat pulsing through his veins cooled and his temper dissipated, Vakarian couldn’t help but sigh heavily. _Typical Garrus_ , he thought snidely, _pissing off the one person who could help you_.

Did he still want her help, though, knowing that his team’s blood was on her hands? Images of Visaeria and Saren and Nihlus, of Vetra and Cassia, flashed through his head. They hurt enough that he had to physically shake the thoughts away.

No. The only thing he wanted to have to do with their murderer was kill her.

And yet…he’d grown strangely attached to her in the previous few days, despite her general vitriol and sour attitude. She was strong, stronger than most of the turians he knew, and she was unabashedly herself. Shepard didn’t give a flying fuck what anyone thought about her. It was refreshing.

Vakarian sighed again. He should probably find her, like it or not. Unless he wanted to die, he needed her to build him something to get off the damn planet.

He sat back down, went to work cleaning his rifle, and vowed to go find her in the morning.

 

Shepard limped quickly through the woods, seething. How _dare_ that motherfucking skullface tell her it was her fault her team was dead? Did he know what she’d done for that team, or what she’d do to bring them back?

No, of course not. Turians had no sense of loyalty the way humans did. They had no sense of _anything_ , beyond bloodlust. Bastards.

As she hobbled along, though, sense returned to Shepard. There was no conceivable way every single turian could be bad. Until she’d realized he was the sniper that killed her team, she’d been starting to think Vakarian was a pretty good turian. He had a stick the size of a redwood up his ass, but otherwise, he wasn’t bad.

She hit her ankle on a tree root and cried out in pain. She needed to return to shelter, or her injuries were going to get worse. It was dark out, and predators would be creeping out soon enough. Shepard was no better than a fish in a barrel unless she was somewhere safe.

Could she bear to return to camp and team back up with Vakarian? He’d taken Ash and Jenkins, Battista and Smith from her. She honestly wasn’t sure she could truly trust and work with their killer.

She might have to, though. To survive.

Survival had been the only thing propelling Shepard through life for as long as she could remember. Her instincts were perfectly honed, and they were all telling her to return to the infuriating turian and try to work things out.

She sighed, turned around, and began to head back towards camp.

Then she saw the glowing eyes, and let out a bloodcurdling scream.

 

_“HELP!”_

Vakarian’s head snapped up at the faint cry he heard. Was that Shepard? Was it another survivor, stranded to die on Canae? Where had it even come from?

He’d almost convinced himself it was a figment of his paranoid imagination when he heard it again.

_“PLEASE HELP!”_

Well. That was Shepard’s voice, all right.

It would be easy, so easy, to just ignore her pleas and let whatever was troubling her kill her. Vakarian wouldn’t have to keep an eye out for a bullet in his back, wouldn’t have to carry around the injured liability on his team.

And yet, his conscience and instincts wouldn’t let him.

Spirits damn both of them.

He got up, grabbed his rifle, and ran into the forest after Shepard.

There wasn’t a third scream, but the sounds of a scuffle became audible quickly. He called, “Shepard? Where are you?”

“ _HELP! PLEASE!_ ” her voice screamed back, from seemingly everywhere.

Vakarian swore in frustration before picking a direction and running in it. The sounds of the scuffle got louder before he burst into a clearing and felt his heart stop.

A massive creature, even bigger than the one that had nearly ripped his arm off several nights previous, had Shepard cornered against a small boulder. The human was pressed against the rock, trying to sidle out of danger, but the creature was far too close for her to move any significant amount.

She didn’t seem to register that Vakarian was there, instead staring at the creature in frozen horror. Vakarian raised his sniper, aiming for the creature’s head. As he pulled the trigger, there was a scream, even more bone-chilling than the previous ones.

He’d missed.

The creature leapt forward, grabbing Shepard’s lower half in its mighty jaws and shaking her violently. She clawed and punched at its snout while howling in pain, but her struggle was futile.

The monster was much larger and stronger than Shepard was, whipping her around like a ragdoll before throwing her to the ground. She desperately rolled out of the way, barely dodging its next attack.

“Hey, asshole!” Vakarian yelled, trying to get the beast’s attention.

It worked.

The creature whipped its head around to look at Vakarian, roared, and began to charge him. Vakarian only had time to get off one shot, so he had to make it count.

The round went straight into the creature’s open mouth, up into its head, killing it instantly. The animal crashed to the ground with a mighty thud, nearly landing on Vakarian in the process.

Normally, he’d be pleased about such a massive and dangerous kill, but he was preoccupied with his teammate’s condition. He ran to her, where she was still lying in the dirt and grass, bleeding profusely.

“I…” Shepard managed weakly. Her skin was pale and clammy.

“…are not going to die,” Vakarian finished, pulling out his medigel and applying it to every injury he found. Spirits, there were a lot.

“You…came back…” Shepard mumbled, voice feeble and thin. “Why?”

“One stupid argument is not going to make me leave my only hope of going home,” Vakarian said, still rapidly applying the gel. “Deal with it. You’re stuck with me.”

“Th-thanks,” Shepard said, a small smile on her bloodied face. “S-sorry, Vakarian…”

“Now’s not the time for apologies,” Vakarian shook his head.

Shepard didn’t respond.

Fuck.

He shook her shoulder violently, yelling, “Shepard! Wake up!”

In his frenzy to wake her, he grabbed the dogtags hanging around her neck. They read simply, _COMMANDER SHEPARD, EVELIN AMELIA. N7. O-._

He had no idea what O- meant, but at least he knew her name. “Evelin. Evelin, can you hear me?”

“Call me Evelin again and I’m going to shoot your balls off. It’s Eve,” Shepard mumbled, barely conscious.

“Eve. I can do that. Eve, hang on. The medigel should take effect any second. I’m going to get you back to camp,” Vakarian insisted.

“Mmkay,” her words were slurred, but her voice was somewhat stronger. “Sounds good. Thanks, Vakarian.”

“It’s Garrus,” Vakarian corrected quickly. If Eve didn’t have much time left, she shouldn’t waste it on his last name, not when his first name was so much shorter. “Just call me Garrus.”

“Mmkay, Garrus,” Eve agreed tiredly. She was crumpled in a heap and remained complete dead weight when Garrus picked her up.

No. Not dead weight. She wasn’t going to be that, not on his watch.

Garrus all but ran back to camp. It was going to be a long night, making sure Eve didn’t die, but he could handle it. He was going to get home.

He was going to get them _both_ home.


	8. Healing

Garrus was not a religious turian, the way his father was. He certainly swore to the spirits a lot, but never prayed to them.

Except that night as he kept his vigil over Eve.

Oh, that night he certainly prayed.

He didn’t know why he was so invested in her life or death – even if she was a teammate, even if she was his best hope of getting off this planet, she was still a stranger, one who had murdered his squad.

And yet, he cared. He cared so deeply that every one of her pained whimpers twisted his stomach into knots; every reopened wound made his heart pound. Her life or death may as well be his, for how much it made his adrenaline race.

She looked so peaceful as she slept, even as she fought for her life. He knew little about humans, but he did know that the amount of blood she’d lost was dangerous. Her skin was too pale, her breathing too shallow for comfort. One lapse in Garrus’s attention, and Eve would die.

So he watched over her as though _his_ life depended on it.

In a strange way, she was beautiful. Even with blood spattered on her pale face, even with her long black fringe torn to shreds by the creature’s teeth, even with her alien features, she had a striking beauty about her.

He didn’t know why he found her so mesmerizing, when most humans were so repulsive.

Then again, Eve was certainly not “most humans.”

Not even close.

Garrus sighed, rubbing his temples. Humans certainly caused strange effects on their companions. He was sure of that now.

Eve stirred in her sleep, crying out in pain as she did so. Her eyes flew open, wet with tears, as she howled.

“Easy there,” Garrus soothed, gently rolling her into her original position on her back. “Shhh. You’re safe now.”

“Hurts,” Eve managed through gritted teeth.

“I know,” Garrus said gently. “We’ll get you healed up. Get some rest, Eve.”

He administered another dose of medigel, and Eve quickly drifted back to sleep.

Garrus sighed in relief.

 

The sun was high in the sky when Eve awoke from her tortured sleep. She rubbed her eyes and moaned in pain. Everything _hurt_.

“Good afternoon, slugabed,” a familiar-yet-alien voice said, amused.

Eve turned onto her side, sending stabbing pain shooting up her body. She howled, “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Easy, easy,” it was Vakarian – no, Garrus – who spoke, quickly kneeling by her side and helping her onto her back. “Don’t move too much, or you’ll reopen everything.”

Right. Eve had stormed off into the forest like an idiot, gotten attacked by _something_ , and Garrus had saved the day. Somehow. For some reason.

“Why did you save me?” Eve demanded, propping herself up on her elbows.

Garrus was quiet for a long time as he stared at the ground. He finally said, voice softer and kinder than Eve had previously heard it, “You’re my team now, Eve. Whether or not you killed my squad…we’re a team. And when I saw them die, I promised them I would _never_ lose another team. So I won’t lose you.”

Tears pricked at Eve’s eyes. What had she done to deserve a teammate as honest and true as Garrus, even if he was her race’s mortal enemy?

Nothing. She’d lead her team to death and then slaughtered another team for revenge. Even if they were turian, they’d been someone’s daughters, sons, brothers, sisters…loved ones.

“Tell me about your squad,” Eve demanded, almost violently.

Garrus looked surprised. “Why?”

“I want to know what I did. Who I killed,” Eve said. “Who I took from you.”

The turian sighed. “No. I’m not going to let you torture yourself. Just know that they were good people. The best…just like I’m sure yours were.”

“Yeah…” Eve chuckled a little, remembering Battista show off his not-inconsequential muscles for Smith. “Yeah. They were.”

“You know…you never told me about your planet,” Garrus said after a peaceful silence. “Fair’s fair.”

Eve smiled. “It’s kind of hit-or-miss. Parts of it are the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen…and parts of it are shitholes. But the pretty parts…there’s all kinds of things. Rainforests with trees the size of a cruiser, white sand beaches...stuff like that.”

“Do you miss it?” Garrus asked.

“Not a chance. I grew up in one of the shitholes,” Eve laughed. “Hell, your planet sounds better than where I lived, and everyone there would want to kill me.”

She chuckled again before hissing in pain and clutching her side. When she pulled her hand away, it was scarlet.

“Fuck,” she scowled, as though scowling would force her wound to heal.

Garrus pulled up his omni-tool, ready to use more medigel, when his brow plates scrunched in frustration. “I’m out of medigel.”

“I’ll be fine,” Eve waved him off, lying back down.

“I’ll get some more tomorrow,” Garrus promised. “The turian base is a hike from here, but I’ll make it quick.”

“There’s a human base only about a kilometer north,” Eve said. “Just go there. I didn’t take all the medigel.”

Garrus looked at her as though she’d grown a head. “You…told me where the base is?”

Eve shrugged, then winced. “Maybe I like you. Who knows.”

Garrus just stared at her, so she went on, “I’m going back to sleep. Everything hurts. ‘Night.”

She tried to hide her satisfied smile as she closed her eyes. She _was_ starting to like Garrus.

Maybe she’d even let him know it. Someday.

 

It had taken almost an hour of persuasion for Eve to convince Garrus to leave her to go get more medigel. He’d violently resisted the idea, not wanting to leave his injured partner. Then again, she needed medical attention, or she might not recover.

He wasn’t losing a team again, so off he went.

The human base was confusing and poorly laid out, but Garrus found the clinic and collected all the medigel his bag could hold. Eve would certainly need it.

His heart pounded the entire jog back to camp, and his thoughts raced. What if something had happened to Eve while he was gone? A stray animal, or a reopened wound…another stranded turian…anything could kill her. Could he manage if he came back to camp to find another dead teammate?

His adrenaline pulsing faster and faster, Garrus broke into a full-out run. He had to get back before something happened. He had to get back…he _had_ to get _back…_

Garrus burst into their camp, crying, “Eve?”

No response.

He scanned camp frantically, only breathing again when his visor found Eve’s vital signals in the shelter he’d built. She was fine. Everything was fine.

“What the hell?” Eve mumbled sleepily, poking her head out from the shelter. “I was sleeping, idiot.”

“I…got nervous,” Garrus replied, abashed and confused. He’d never been one for anxiety. Where was this coming from? “Had to make sure you hadn’t died on me.”

“I’m pretty fuckin’ hard to get rid of,” Eve laughed. “I’m fine.”

“Let’s get you patched up some more,” Garrus said, heading over to their little makeshift tent. “I took all the medigel I could find.”

Eve reluctantly obeyed, though she grumbled, “I’m not a baby, Garrus. You don’t need to coddle me.”

“You’re lucky to still have legs. You need to be coddled,” Garrus scowled back.

“I still don’t get you,” Eve commented as Garrus applied the gel.

“Oh?” Garrus hummed, focused on his work.

“I’m good at reading people. Maybe it’s because you’re not human, but…you don’t make sense,” Eve said, regarding him oddly. “Even if you promised your team you wouldn’t lose anyone else, why me? Why care so much? I’m a human. It’s not like we can stay a team after we get off this fucking rock. You should’ve just let me die. You’re not stupid; you could survive on your own.”

Garrus was quiet for a long time, still tending to Eve’s wounds. Finally he said simply, “You don’t make sense either. I _hate_ humans. But there’s something…different about you. I…trust you. I don’t know why.”

Now it was Eve’s turn to slip into contemplative silence. She thought long and hard about it before managing, voice tight with words she’d never once said, “I trust you too. You’re…a good man, Garrus Vakarian.”

The way Garrus’s mandibles spread in what was clearly a turian smile made Eve’s heart jump. She hadn’t just found a teammate – she’d found one of her very first friends.

“And you’re a good woman, Eve Shepard,” Garrus said, still smiling. “I’m glad to have met you.”

“Even despite everything?” Eve asked.

“Despite everything,” Garrus nodded. “Maybe we’ll only be a team for as long as we’re on Canae. But let’s make that worth something.”

Eve smiled too. “We will.”


	9. Contact

The next few days and nights were chilly and rainy, so Eve and Garrus stayed in their little lean-to. Garrus only left shelter to cook their food in breaks in the storm. He refused to let Eve outside, afraid she’d catch something and get sick in addition to her injuries.

He had become increasingly protective of her since they had confirmed their friendship, although Eve didn’t mind. She simply lay inside the tent, fiddling with the salvaged tech she’d found at the Alliance base she’d raided almost a week ago. Her instincts told her she could build a radio out of the parts she had – a radio that could get them home.

She’d only be able to contact the Alliance, though, and that deeply concerned her. The Alliance was not known for being merciful to turian prisoners, not in the least. Mysterious injuries…torture…deaths. She couldn’t let that happen to Garrus.

Somehow, she’d get him home. Somehow.

“You alright there, Eve?” it was Garrus, returning to the tent. “You look worried.”

“No, I’m fine,” Eve shook her head, shaking off the unpleasant thoughts in favor of enjoying her remaining time with Garrus.

“Good,” Garrus’s mandibles flared in the crooked turian smile Eve was beginning to love.

Love?

“Worrying is only going to make it take longer for you to heal,” Garrus went on. He shook water off himself, offered Eve her dinner, and sat down next to her. “Here, eat up.”

“You don’t need to coddle me,” Eve scowled, not for the first time. “I’m not a child.”

“Yes, but you’re still badly injured. You need food in you,” Garrus pressed, nudging her with a gentle elbow. “Eat.”

Eve obeyed, though she scowled at him for his babying of her. Garrus chuckled and said, “Glare at me all you want, I’m going to take care of you.”

“Why?” Eve asked through a mouthful of half-cooked freeze-dried spaghetti.

“Because you’re my partner,” Garrus said simply.

“We’ve been partners for less than two weeks. You get loyal awfully quickly, big guy,” Eve commented.

“You’ve given me no reason not to trust you,” Garrus replied.

Eve laughed, nearly spitting out her food in the process. Garrus raised a confused browplate, so she explained, “I killed your entire team in cold blood. That’s a pretty damn good reason.”

“And I killed yours. Do you trust me?” Garrus asked.

“Of course,” Eve said, without hesitation.

“Exactly,” Garrus said.

“That’s…different. You saved my life. You didn’t have to, but you did. So I trust you. I haven’t done anything for you,” Eve shook her head.

“Maybe, maybe not. But I can tell you’re a good woman, Eve Shepard. So I trust you too,” Garrus replied.

Eve was quiet, unable to match Garrus’s earnestness with sarcasm. Finally she said, “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“That they trust you?” Garrus sounded surprised.

“Well…that too,” Eve sighed. “Garrus, I’ve never trusted _anyone_ before. Not like this.”

“What about your team?” Garrus asked.

“Yes and no. I trusted them, and I knew they wouldn’t betray me. But…I don’t know. Something’s different. Maybe, if things were different, if we weren’t at war…who knows. We’d probably be best friends. You’re already the truest friend I’ve ever had,” Eve mumbled, staring at the ground.

Garrus smiled again. “You’re starting to scare me, Eve. It’s almost like you care, or something.”

“Hm. Maybe I do,” Eve smirked back. Being genuine wasn’t her strong suit, so back into sarcasm she fled.

“Huh. Funny, maybe I care, too,” Garrus chuckled. He ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Well, if you really care, I can use your help with something,” Eve replied.

“Yeah?” Garrus asked.

“I’m working on building us a radio,” Eve said, holding up the parts she’d been tinkering with. “A radio to get us home.”

Garrus smiled, but this one was forced. He was starting to wonder if he truly wanted to go home. He loved his family and the few friends he’d had, but Eve…Eve was something special. He never wanted to leave her. They were a team.

“Of course. I always forget humans are a few years behind in technology,” he teased.

“Fuck you pointy bastards,” Eve scowled. “Are you going to help or not?”

“Of course I will,” Garrus said. “What do you need?”

“A couple of parts, that’s all. They should be easy to find in the Alliance base,” Eve said. “Can you get them for me? It’ll be a while longer before I can walk that far again.”

“Anything for you,” Garrus nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow morning.”

 

The walk to the Alliance base was long and lonely, leaving Garrus far too much time with his thoughts.

In just under two weeks’ time, he’d come to trust and respect Eve in a way he’d never trusted or respected another turian. Not that he didn’t have great respect for his comrades and superiors, of course – his father had done his best to raise a good turian.

But there was something different about Eve. She was proud, despite everything she’d been through, though her pride and demeanor had rough edges. Eve was an uncut diamond, forged under the intense pressure of a hard life, completely unaware of her brilliance and value.

And for some reason, Garrus was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He’d never felt this way about anyone. He respected her more than even Primarch Victus, trusted her in a way he’d never even trusted Nihlus…cared for her more than he had for Tenia, back in boot camp, when they were fucking the life out of each other.

Shit, if Nihlus were around, he’d accuse Garrus of being a xenophile. His feelings, whatever they were, for Eve, were starting to challenge his simple obedience of the Hierarchy’s orders.

Eve might be making a traitor out of him. The thought repulsed him, sent a wave of hatred down his body, before he shook himself out of it. She wasn’t trying to – it wasn’t her fault that she was beautiful and strong and fierce and everything the Hierarchy had ever said humans weren’t.

Fuck these thoughts, this confusion…the whole damn war. Nothing about it was right or made any sense anymore.

Garrus shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts as if they were pestering bugs. He’d never been much of a philosopher – that was Solana, the quiet, contemplative one in the family. She wasn’t cut out for this war, even if compulsory service required it of her. He prayed every day that she’d live through the war, live to see the bright and peaceful future that she deserved, even if he didn’t.

Solana was really the only reason he wanted to go home anymore. Otherwise, what he wouldn’t give to just stay on this planet with Eve, live happily ever after with his friend.

Happily ever after, with a friend? He was bordering on ridiculousness.

Garrus grumbled to himself as he rummaged through the base for the parts Eve had listed for him to find. He wished things could go back to the way they were a month ago, before all the problems and confusion and death had happened.

No…he didn’t. That would mean no Eve. He didn’t know how, why, or in what ways, but she had changed his life. For the better.

 

Eve waited anxiously for Garrus to return. His presence had become a comfort to her over the course of their partnership, and having him gone felt like a limb was missing.

She hated feeling this way, being this dependent on another person. In her twenty-five years alive, she’d never once been able to fully rely on anyone beside herself. Even her old squad…they were young and brash, full of piss and vinegar and raring for a fight. They hadn’t been fully reliable, at least when it came to trusting them to not do something completely fucking stupid.

But Garrus…he was older, wiser. Tired of all the bullshit and fighting and dying the way she was. They were birds of a feather, and she had never felt so alive as when they were together.

Eve knew that building this radio, that getting them home, meant the end of this little paradise, if it could be called that. Living in a shitty tent on a rainy hellhole of a planet, with someone who’d nearly killed her, wasn’t most people’s idea of paradise, but Eve was hardly most people.

She loved living in this suspension of reality, where they weren’t human and turian, mortal enemies, but they were just Eve and Garrus.

Friends.

“Eve? I’m back,” Garrus’s voice announced his arrival, dispelling the unpleasant, intruding thoughts.

“Good. I was about to hobble out there after you myself,” Eve called back affectionately as Garrus entered the tent, soaking wet from the rain.

“Glad you didn’t. Here, this should be all the things you needed,” Garrus replied, handing Eve several small electronic devices.

“Perfect!” Eve cried excitedly, accepting the parts. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Garrus’s smile was his biggest one yet, and Eve’s heart skipped a beat at seeing her best friend’s joy. She loved it, so much it pained her to know that soon, she’d never see it again.

As she started putting the new parts into the radio, Garrus asked quietly, “Hey, Eve?”

“Yeah, big guy?” Eve replied absentmindedly, fiddling with her device.

“Are you…” Garrus paused, sighed heavily, and asked in a defeated voice, “…are you sure you really want to do this?”

“Of course. I want to go home. Don’t you?” Eve asked, surprised, her previous thoughts forgotten. This was it! They could go home, back to comfort and safety!

“I…don’t know,” Garrus admitted. He sighed again. “I want to see my family again. But…Eve. You’ve got to know what this means.”

“Well, yes. Back to the war,” Eve said. “I’ve been fighting my whole life. I’m used to it.”

“It means we won’t ever be able to see each other again,” Garrus’s voice was soft and pained.

“You don’t know that,” Eve argued weakly, ignoring her intruding thoughts. “You can’t know that.”

“I do. It’s not like the war is going to end any time soon, no matter whether we say good things about each other. We’ll both go right back into combat, and we’ll have to kill each other’s people again. And Eve…we might go up against each other. I’d never be able to pull the trigger,” Garrus said.

“I couldn’t either,” Eve admitted.

“And that’s treason. Refusing orders…refusing to kill an enemy…that’s a death sentence. I can’t let that happen to you,” Garrus persisted. “Eve…we can stay here.”

“You can’t,” Eve sighed. “Garrus, I can. No one cares about me. But you have people who love you. I can’t let you stay here for me.”

“I care,” Garrus insisted.

“I know,” Eve said. “I care about you too. Too much to let you stay here.”

“That’s not your decision to make!” Garrus protested.

Eve took a breath, ready to argue, before sighing. “You’re right. But we can’t stay here forever. We’ll run out of supplies sooner or later.”

Garrus sighed again. “I know. You’re right.”

They were both quiet. Eve admitted, “No, maybe you’re right. I can only call the Alliance with this anyway. I don’t want them to hurt you. I’ll just…throw it away.”

She made to do so, but Garrus gently took her hands in his, preventing her from doing so. “I’ll be all right. You’ll be there. Maybe we can convince them to see reason.”

“Are you sure?” Eve asked, hesitant.

“Yes,” Garrus nodded, putting the last piece of the radio in Eve’s hand. “I trust you. More than anyone, or anything.”

Eve threw her arms around Garrus, hugging him tightly. They stayed that way a long time before Garrus finally let her go. Eve plugged the last piece into the radio and they both watched with bated breath as it turned on.

Tentatively, Eve pressed the “transmit” button, sending out their coordinates and saying with a trembling voice, “Commander Eve Shepard to the Alliance. I’m on the planet Canae and need immediate extraction. Does anyone read me?”

Static.

Eve sighed, tossing the radio to the side and lying down heavily. “Should’ve known it wouldn’t work.”

Then, suddenly, the static changed.

“Shepard, this is Captain Anderson of the SSV Intrepid _._ I read you loud and clear. Sending an extraction shuttle now.”


	10. The Intrepid

Garrus and Eve sat in silence until the shuttle became visible in the atmosphere, heading for the clearing their little camp was in.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Eve promised, out of the blue, as the shuttle touched down. “I don’t really have a god, but if I did, I’d swear to ‘em. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Garrus said nothing, but silently reached for Eve’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

His hands were shaking.

Two humans, both men, stepped off the shuttle once it touched down, massive guns in hand. One called, “Commander Shepard?”

“I’m here,” Eve called back, slowly getting up and limping outside into the drizzle, while Garrus hesitated in the tent.

“Thank God. Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko. This is Lieutenant Vega. We’re here to take you home,” the shorter, thinner man who’d spoken first said.

“Thank you, lieutenants. It’s good to be going home,” Eve said with a sharp nod of greeting. “But I’m not the only one here.”

“There’s another survivor?” Vega, a huge, burly man, sounded stunned.

“Well…yes and no,” Eve replied, suddenly unsure. She thought of Garrus’s careful tending to her wounds, found her courage, and said, “He’s a turian.”

“Shit, you’re the lone survivor on Canae and you still took a prisoner? That’s awesome. You really are the galaxy’s biggest badass,” Vega laughed.

Rage pulsed through Eve’s veins and she clenched a fist. “He’s not a prisoner.”

“Then…what is it?” Alenko asked.

“ _He_. He saved my life and I wouldn’t have survived this long on Canae without him. He’s coming with us,” Eve said commandingly.

“Like hell he is!” Vega retorted. “I’m not letting one of those pointy skullfaces on the Captain’s ship.”

“That wasn’t a request, _Lieutenant_ ,” Eve hissed. “He’s coming with us, and we’re getting him back to the turian Hierarchy. _Unharmed_.”

“Great. So much for Commander Shepard, galactic badass. More like Commander Shepard, turian fucker,” Vega growled.

Eve ignored the slight, instead glowering at Alenko. “Do we have an understanding, Staff Lieutenant, or not?”

There was a long, tense silence, before Alenko mumbled, “…yes, ma’am.”

When Eve looked pleased, he added quickly, “I can’t say what the Captain is going to think or do, though.”

“He’ll get over it,” Eve brushed him off. She turned towards the tent and called, “Garrus, c’mon. We’re heading home.”

 

The shuttle to the Intrepid was by far the most uncomfortable of Eve’s life, between the pain in her legs from her injuries and the way Vega was glaring daggers at Garrus. For his part, Garrus did nothing but stare at the floor, practically deaf and mute, while Alenko held his weapons.

Captain Anderson was waiting for them at the shuttle bay, shaking Eve’s hand before offering her a friendly, parental hug. He said, “Good to see you alive and in one piece, Shepard. I was worried when I heard you were reported MIA.”

“I’m lucky to be alive. My whole team died on Canae…and I almost did, too. Twice,” Eve replied. No need to mention one of those times was at Garrus’s hands – that was water under the bridge, at this point.

“We’re glad to have you back. The Alliance will want a full debrief and you’ll be given some leave to recover, before we send you back out there,” Anderson nodded.

“Sir. There’s…something else…you should know,” Eve blurted out.

“Oh?” Anderson raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not the only survivor the shuttle brought back,” Eve began. When Anderson looked baffled, Eve went on quickly, “…theotheroneisaturian.”

“What was that last part?” Anderson asked.

Eve coughed, cleared her throat, and repeated only slightly slower, “…the other one is a turian.”

“A turian? Shepard, you know my feelings on prisoners of war. It only ends badly for everyone involved. I won’t have one onboard my ship,” Anderson growled.

“He’s not a prisoner,” Eve retorted. “He’s…my friend.”

The young yeoman behind Anderson gasped loudly, shocked, while Anderson, to his credit, simply raised his eyebrows. After the longest silence of Eve’s life, Anderson went on, “Well, that’s…unexpected. And more than likely will earn you a court-martial.”

“I don’t care,” Eve insisted petulantly. “Garrus saved my life. I owe him one. I promised to get him back to the Hierarchy, and I will.”

Anderson sighed. “Shepard, he’s now effectively a prisoner of war. We can’t have a turian roaming loose on our ships. Alenko, take this turian down to the brig.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t tolerate prisoners of war!” Eve spat, trotting to keep up with Anderson as he turned to walk away.

“I don’t. But he can’t have free rein of the ship. The only way to ensure that is to put him in the brig,” Anderson replied.

“He did nothing wrong!” Eve protested angrily. “He saved my life!”

Anderson stopped short, towering over Eve. “Shepard. That turian has killed dozens if not hundreds of humans in this war. He’s done nothing wrong? I have to call bullshit on that one.”

“And I’ve killed hundreds of turians. Don’t you get it, sir?” Eve persisted.

“I do. If the roles were reversed, the turians would kill you outright. You’d be lucky if they didn’t rape or torture you first. I’m inclined to show him similar sympathy,” Anderson growled.

“He’s not like that!” Eve all but yelled at her commander. “Sir, turians are just like humans. There’s good ones, there’s bad ones, and everything in between. You’re really going to punish a good one because of the bad ones?”

“You’ve crossed a line, Shepard!” Anderson snapped. “You are not the commanding officer of this ship. Things will be done _my_ way. Any more arguing and you’ll be joining your friend in the brig for insubordination.”

Eve took a breath to calm herself before insisting more quietly, “Sir…please. Garrus risked his life to save mine. I owe him my life, and I said I would repay that by getting him home safely. Please let me hold true to my word. Just…talk to him. You’ll see. He’s just like us. He’s got a family, and friends, people who love him. Please, sir. He deserves better than this.”

Anderson sighed heavily. “I’m torn. As long as I’ve known you, your judgment has been sound. But this…Shepard, you’re asking me to let a sworn enemy of the Alliance just walk freely aboard one of our ships. I can’t do that.”

“Then let me guard him. I’ll keep an eye on him at all times,” Eve begged.

“That will only make this situation worse for you,” Anderson said. “I’ll…I’ll assign Alenko to be his guard. This turian will have eyes on him 24/7 – for his safety as well as everyone else’s. He will, however, be staying in the brig. I have nowhere else to put him that won’t risk everyone’s safety.”

When Shepard made to argue, Anderson cut her off with, “You know as well as I do that if we put him in the crew quarters, he’d be dead by morning.”

Eve pouted but said nothing, knowing her commander was right. Anderson went on, “Shepard…you’d better be right about this. I can’t do anything to protect you from treason charges if you’re wrong.”

“I’m not wrong,” Eve replied fiercely. “I’d bet my life on it.”

Anderson chuckled darkly. “You are.”

Eve was quiet until they reached Anderson’s briefing room. He gestured for her to sit down before asking, “Shepard, what the hell happened out there?”

“The day the Alliance pulled off of Canae, I was out on a routine patrol with my team. Jenkins, Williams, Smith, and Battista. We walked right into a turian patrol and got into a firefight. I lost my team, but I killed all but the other team’s commander. I had to steal supplies from an abandoned base to survive, but…then I met Garrus. The turians had pulled off of Canae on the same day, and he was stranded too. We agreed to work together to survive. I got attacked by a wild animal a few days later and Garrus…he saved my life. I’d have died from the animal, or starvation, or sepsis without him. He’s my friend, sir,” Eve explained.

Anderson was silent for a moment. “That’s not typical turian behavior.”

“No,” Eve agreed. “But he’s not a typical turian.”

“Look, Shepard. I know you’re attached to him. It may be a bit of Stockholm Syndrome – you worked with an enemy to survive, and now you’re confused,” Anderson began.

“Respectfully, sir, but shut the fuck up,” Eve scowled. “I’m not confused. I know that turians are just as human as humans are, and that if anything happens to my friend because people are too dense to see that, I’m going to be really pissed.”

“Watch your mouth when you talk to Admiral Grissom about this,” Anderson warned. “You’ll get yourself court-martialed for treason mighty quickly, and then you and the turian will both be dead.”

“He’s not ‘the turian.’ He has a name,” Eve said. “His name is Garrus Vakarian.”

“Then this Garrus Vakarian better have earned the trust you seem to have given him,” Anderson said. “Because both your lives are on the line about this.”

“He has,” Eve vowed.

“Then I’ll drop it,” Anderson said. “Let’s get you your bunk back.”

Eve followed Anderson to the crew quarters, where most of the crew was assembled. One of them demanded, “Is it true, sir? We have a turian on board, and it’s not even in chains?”

“This is a unique situation,” Anderson replied calmly. “The turian is under Alenko’s surveillance, but he is not a POW.”

“He should be a dead turian!” another cried. “Let us at him, sir, and we’ll take care of this.”

“You’ll have to go through me!” Eve snarled, cracking her knuckles menacingly.

“The turian lover speaks!” the first hissed. “Fuck you, you crazy bitch! When he kills everyone in their sleep, you’ll be sorry.”

“Garrus wouldn’t do that,” Eve spat.

“Oh, it has a name? Well fuck you and your precious _Garrus_. You’d better hope Alenko doesn’t need any sleep tonight, or that turian’s getting its throat cut!” the second threatened.

“You’ll have to get through me, motherfucker,” Eve said. 

“Gladly!” a third voice, Vega’s, said, as he stormed forward and threw a punch.

Eve was only vaguely aware of Anderson’s roars to stop the fight before she was knocked out cold.

 

She dreamt of being back on Canae, lying in the little tent, warm in Garrus’s arms.


	11. Prisoner's Dilemma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and most of all your kind words! Seeing comments on my stories are one of my main motivators to keep writing, because nothing makes me happier than seeing people react to my work. Thank you, everyone, for reading!

“State your name and rank, for the record.”

Eve scowled. “Commander Evelin Amelia Shepard. Let the record show I’m pissed that I have to sit through this.”

Admiral Grissom took a deep breath and closed his eyes before speaking again. “Commander. This is a routine debriefing. You’ve done plenty of these before. Don’t make this into anything else.”

“If this is a routine debriefing, then why am I in an interrogation room?” Eve demanded. “And where’s Garrus? If anything happens to him, I can’t promise what will happen.”

“And that’s exactly why this debriefing is in an interrogation room. Your loyalty seems to have been compromised, Shepard,” Grissom said. “You swore an oath to protect Earth and its people, and yet you’ve been playing house with our sworn enemy!”

“Only because _you_ made the call to leave me behind,” Eve growled. Grissom glared at her, so she glared back defiantly, arms crossed. “I wouldn’t have teamed up with Garrus if it hadn’t been necessary for my survival.”

“And yet, you’re clearly loyal to him,” Anderson chimed in. “You protected him on my ship, nearly with your life. Why?”

Eve was quiet for a long time, not out of defiance, but contemplation. How much should she tell them about her relationship with Garrus? Did they need to know he nearly killed her? Did they need to know that she’d come to rely on the gentle sound of his breath beside her to sleep at night? Should she just lie outright?

No. That could cost Garrus his life if the truth was exposed.

“…on Canae. The day before everyone withdrew. My team fought with…a turian team. The turians killed my squad, before I killed all of them aside from their commander. The turian commander…Garrus…and I both escaped. I was injured and without food for days, until I found the closest FOB. Garrus probably did the same. We met a few days after that and fought. He nearly killed me, but…he didn’t. He spared me, and proposed we work together to get off Canae. For our teams, if nothing else. All he wanted was for his team to be recovered and buried on Palaven,” Eve began.

“Get to the point,” Grissom grumbled.

“I’m getting there,” Eve snapped back. She calmed. “One day, we realized that we were the commanders responsible for the deaths of each other’s teams. We had a fight and I stormed off into the woods after nightfall. I was stupid. And nearly died.”

“Doctor Chakwas noted Shepard’s injuries to be severe, and would have become life-threatening without additional treatment,” Anderson added. Eve smiled at him for the small statement of support.

“Garrus saved my life. He didn’t have to, but he risked his own life to save me, and then he took care of me until I was well enough to move and walk again,” Eve said. “I know we’re enemies with the turians. But he’s not like that. Garrus is…a friend. A good one. I’ve never had a better team than when I was with him.”

Grissom sighed heavily. “Shepard, you of all people should know that actions have consequences, as do words.”

“Yes, sir,” Eve nodded. “My actions on Canae lost the Alliance four good soldiers.”

“Whose bodies are being recovered, whatever’s left of them, as we speak,” Grissom said. Eve let out a sigh of relief to know that her team, her friends, would rest peacefully on Earth.

“That said, what you just said is going to have some repercussions,” Grissom went on. He turned to Anderson. “Captain. As you are Shepard’s commanding officer, I need to have a word with you.”

The two men went out of the room, leaving Eve in eerie, uncomfortable silence. She’d never experienced anything quite so quiet – not on Earth, not on a ship, and certainly not on Canae. It felt ominous.

She leaned closer to the door, and words became faintly audible. The men were clearly having a rather heated discussion, based on the tone Eve could just barely hear. She could only make out one word, but it was repeated over and over.

“Treason.”

Eve barely dared to think about the repercussions of what that meant, and what context it was meant in. Certainly, her friendship and alliance with Garrus was unprecedented, but was it really treason?

…was the friendship that had saved and changed her life going to mark the end of it? How would Garrus handle that? He had done well in Alliance custody so far, winning over Lieutenant Alenko with his shitty jokes, but Eve wasn’t sure what Garrus would do if she were to be executed for treason.

And oh, would she be executed. Pardons and jail time were for politicians and rich people, not for the orphans who’d joined the Alliance out of desperation. If Eve were charged with treason, she would be convicted, and she would die.

The men came back into the room. Anderson looked furious, while Grissom simply looked annoyed. Grissom opened his mouth to speak but Eve cut him off with, “Sir, you absolutely blow at talking quietly. I know what you said.”

“Oh?” Grissom’s annoyance only grew. “What did we discuss, then?”

“Treason charges,” Eve replied. “You want to execute me for treason because I played nice with a turian.”

“It’s not about what we want, Shepard,” Grissom said. “It’s about procedure. You should have killed this turian when you had the chance, and instead you brought it home. Whether or not we release it, it now has sensitive information regarding the layout of our ships. That’s akin to passing the information to the enemy. That’s treason, Shepard.”

“That turian has a name, and _his_ name is Garrus,” Eve scowled, too pissed off to be frightened.

“The turian,” Grissom persisted, “is not the issue. The issue is _you_.”

“I had no intention of showing him the inner workings of an Alliance ship. I just promised to get him home. A promise I fully intend to keep,” Eve growled back. She turned to Anderson. “Sir, I resent this. I was abandoned by the Alliance on Canae and did what I had to to survive, and now I’m being punished for it? If you want me gone, let me be discharged. I’d be happy to get the fuck out of the Alliance if it doesn’t want me anymore.”

Anderson sighed, turning to Grissom. “Sir?”

Grissom was clearly lost in aggravated, puzzled thought as he worked out potential solutions. Finally he said, voice strained with stress, “Shepard, you claim you gave no information to the turian?”

“I told him where an abandoned FOB was so he could get me some medi-gel. That was all. No coordinates, just a general direction,” Eve said.

Grissom bit his lip in thought. Finally he said, “You’re too valuable of an asset and soldier to execute if we can avoid it, Shepard. We’re going to interrogate your spiky friend, and if your stories line up, we won’t court-martial you. I want to believe you didn’t betray all of us just to save your ass.”

“If you hurt Garrus, I’m going to be pissed,” Eve warned.

“Think about where your loyalties lie,” Grissom replied harshly.

She wasn’t proud to admit it, but as soon as Grissom and Anderson left the room, Eve broke down in tears.

Maybe Garrus was right. Maybe they should have stayed on Canae.

 

“You’ve got some people here to see you,” the guard outside Garrus’s interrogation room growled, slamming the door open. “ _Important_ people. Play nice, or I’ll break your scaly neck.”

“I’ll take a pass on that, thanks,” Garrus replied weakly, attempting for humor and failing miserably.

Two men in military uniforms walked into the room. One was clearly much more grizzled than the other, but both looked to be high-ranking. The older one said, “Name.”

“Captain Garrus Castis Andronicus Vakarian,” Garrus replied automatically. “XO of the THS Aegis.”

“You’re Shepard’s friend,” the older one said. He wasn’t asking questions, simply demanding answers.

“Yes, sir. I would call Eve a friend,” Garrus nodded.

The younger man cleared his throat. “Captain Vakarian, I am Captain Anderson, Shepard’s commanding officer. This is Admiral Grissom. _My_ commanding officer.”

“Um…thank you, for, uh, not killing me,” Garrus managed. “Sir.”

“Thank Shepard for that,” Grissom growled. “And don’t make any assumptions. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

“I’m a prisoner of war. I don’t plan on making any assumptions,” Garrus said.

“Good. Shepard wants us to return you to your Hierarchy. We’ll see,” Grissom went on. “Both of your lives are in your hands right now, turian.”

Garrus felt his heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“Currently, Shepard is at risk of being tried and executed for treason. What you say determines whether or not she is,” Anderson explained.

The room spun. Eve…executed? Because of him? No. He couldn’t let that happen. “Sir, Eve didn’t do anything treasonous. We only worked together to survive, and it was my idea. Don’t punish her.”

“Shut up, turian,” Grissom spat. “You’ll speak when you need to, not when you want to.”

Garrus fell silent, pulse racing. His eyes darted around the room, looking for anything helpful. An ancient, instinctive need to be free began to bubble through his veins, threatening to overtake him…the table was bolted to the floor, but the chairs could be weapons. Grissom was old, too old to really fight back, and Anderson was smaller than Garrus. He could fight his way out, and then find Eve…take them both back to the Hierarchy, where his father’s status would protect her…

“Turian!” Grissom snarled.

Garrus jumped so violently he banged his knees on the table. Grissom repeated, “Answer the question, dammit! What happened on Canae? Whether or not your story lines up with Shepard’s determines whether she lives or dies.”

How to answer? What did Eve say? Should he tell the entire truth, tell them how the mere thought of Eve was beginning to make his heart beat faster, that falling asleep beside her caused the most peaceful sleep of his life, that he’d never felt as alive as when he hunted with her?

“Answer the question, Vakarian, or this gets ugly,” Anderson warned.

“I…had a team on Canae. We met Shepard’s team in battle. I killed her team, and she killed mine. She retreated before I could kill her, and I then retreated. We met a few days later. I almost killed her, but then I suggested we team up to get off that hellhole. We worked together, until she figured out I killed her team. We had a fight, she left, and then I had to save her scrawny butt from a monster. I took care of her after that, until she contacted the Alliance,” Garrus explained, in one quick burst.

“Did she ever pass any information to you about the Alliance?” Grissom asked.

“No,” Garrus replied immediately. _That_ was treason. That was what they were going to kill Eve over – directions to an Alliance base?

“You sure?” Grissom demanded.

Garrus was silent for a long time, weighing the decision. Had Eve already told them? If she did, then his refusal to admit it would mean death for her. If she hadn’t, then he’d still be condemning her by revealing the truth.

Eve was distrustful, yes, but proud and honorable. She would have told her commanders the truth.

Or at least, so Garrus prayed.

_Spirits, protect her_ , he thought desperately as he said, “No. She pointed me towards an abandoned Alliance base so I could get her more medi-gel. She would’ve died without that.”

Anderson let out an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, Vakarian.”

Grissom, despite himself, smirked slightly. “Your people are proud bastards, Vakarian. They raised you well. Your honesty just saved Shepard’s life.”

Garrus’s throat clenched with emotion as he realized what Grissom said.

Eve was safe. Even if he wasn’t, Eve was going to be fine. Thank the spirits. Maybe he ought to pray to them more often.

“What happens now?” he managed.

“We’re…not entirely sure,” Anderson admitted. “For now, you’ll remain in Alliance custody.”

The two men left the room without another word.

As soon as they were gone, Eve came bolting into the room, ignoring the protest of the guard outside the door. She threw herself into Garrus’s arms, sitting on his lap and hugging him desperately.

Was she…crying?

“I was so worried about you,” Eve finally managed, gentle hands on Garrus’s mandibles as she looked him in the eyes. “Did they hurt you? Are you okay?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Garrus chuckled. His heart swelled with affection for her – she was nearly court-martialed for treason, and yet she was worried about _him_. “It’s okay.”

“I know. It’ll be okay. I promise, I’ll get them to take good care of you until we can get you home. I promise,” Eve vowed.

She hugged him again.

Garrus bowed his head so he could rest his forehead on hers. He murmured, “I’m with you. What can possibly go wrong?”

Eve smiled.

Garrus was thankful humans couldn’t hear subvocals, because his had revealed a secret he’d only just learned about himself.

_I love you, Eve Shepard._


	12. Prisoner

Eve sat on her lonely little bunk in the crew quarters, staring down at her now-bandaged injuries. Dr. Chakwas, the ship’s doctor, had taken excellent care of her, pumping her body full of antibiotics, medigel, and a blood transfusion before bandaging her up and sending her to bed rest.

It wasn’t quite as loving, though, as the messy, desperate way she’d been cared for on Canae. Loving was the only word to describe how Garrus had cared for Eve, and it was beginning to describe the warmth and safety she felt whenever she thought of Garrus.

Love.

Yeah, that was it. That was the right word. She loved him. The realization was hovering, waiting to fully sink in, when...

“Shepard, right?” a voice asked, startling Eve from her thoughts. Eve looked up to see a powerfully built man standing near her.

“If you’re going to call me names or tell me I’m a traitor, just save it. I’ve gotten than enough already and I doubt you’re creative enough to come up with anything new,” Eve scowled, wanting to be left alone with more pleasant thoughts.

“I heard they weren’t going to charge you with anything,” the man said, sounding intrigued.

“Doesn’t stop the court of public opinion,” Eve said bitterly. “Like I said – what do you want?”

“Just here to let you know that you’re not the only one who thinks this war is bullshit. Lost a lot of good men and women fighting over rocks in space just because we’re not willing to realize turians aren’t all evil,” the man replied. He held out a hand. “Jacob Taylor.”

“Shepard,” Eve replied, shaking his hand. “Thanks, Jacob.”

“Don’t let the guys like Vega get you down. They’re not bad people. They’ll come around sooner or later,” Jacob went on.

“Shepard,” this new voice was familiar. Eve looked up and saw Anderson standing in the doorway to the crew quarters. “A word, please.”

Eve nodded a silent thanks to Jacob, got up, and followed her captain down the hall towards the cargo bay. Anderson asked, “How are you holding up? Karin told me your injuries were severe.”

“Nothing some medigel and time won’t fix,” Eve shrugged. “She fixed up my broken nose from my fight with Vega too, so I don’t have any of his ugly rubbing off on me.”

This brought a reluctant laugh from Anderson. “I’ve already filed the paperwork for his court-martial for that. Don’t worry. He won’t get off scot-free.”

“Good,” Eve growled, remembering what he’d said about Garrus. Her fist clenched involuntarily.

“Which brings me to my next point,” Anderson went on. “Shepard, you’re worrying me.”

Eve didn’t say anything, so Anderson continued, “You’re not charged with treason, but your loyalty to the turian is still dangerous. To you, and everyone else.”

“I fail to see how, sir,” Eve replied through clenched teeth. Anger was bubbling up again – could her commanders really not let go of the fact that she’d made nice with a turian? She didn’t even see him as a turian anymore. He was just Garrus now.

“If it came down to it, who would you choose? The Alliance, or your turian?” Anderson asked.

Eve had no response except, “His name is Garrus.”

Anderson sighed. “Shepard…you’re proving my point.”

“Have you ever had someone save your life?” Eve asked.

“I’m a soldier. Of course,” Anderson nodded.

“How did your feelings about them change afterwards?” Eve continued.

“I respected them all beforehand, but…something about nearly dying changes you. One of them was Admiral Grissom, back when we were younger – I’d follow him to hell and back,” Anderson replied.

“Then you understand how I feel about Garrus,” Eve said. This took Anderson aback somewhat. “I don’t care that he’s turian. He saved my life, when he should have, by all rights, let me die. He nearly killed me twice before that, and he had just found out I murdered his entire team. His cousin was part of his team, sir. She was 16. He could have let me die because of that. But he didn’t. I owe him my life, and I promised to repay him by getting him home.”

“Shepard…” Anderson sighed.

“He has a family he loves, just like any Alliance soldier. He’s got parents and a little sister, and I _swore_ I would get him back to Palaven to see them. I keep my promises, sir,” Eve’s voice was choked with emotion. “Garrus has no more interest in fighting in this war than I do anymore. There’s too much in common on both sides for us to be able to kill each other in good conscience.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he now has sensitive information regarding Alliance command structures and ship layouts. If you wanted to take him home, Shepard, you should have let him stay on Canae,” Anderson shook his head. “We can’t just let him go at this point.”

“It’s not any more information than their spies already had, I’d bet,” Eve scowled, cross. “You and Grissom are punishing him because you can’t punish me!”

“This is not meant as a punishment. It’s simply a fact. Captain Vakarian is now, effective immediately, a prisoner of war, Shepard. We cannot release him on nothing but good faith that he won’t use this information against us,” Anderson said.

“But he won’t!” Eve protested childishly. “He’s honorable. He wouldn’t take our help and throw it back in the Alliance’s faces like that.”

“You can’t know that,” Anderson scowled. “Shepard. I know you’re a good soldier and a loyal friend. But you went through a lot on Canae. Dr. Chakwas is worried about your mental stability in addition to your injuries.”

“You’re calling me crazy because I believe that turians aren’t evil?” Eve hissed. “Sir, you’re not the captain I used to know.”

Anderson sighed. “No matter how much you fight it, your friend Vakarian isn’t going free any time soon. I’m sorry, Shepard.”

Eve let out a cry of frustration, punching the corridor wall in anger. As tears streamed down her cheeks from the pain of newly-broken knuckles, she said quietly, “Sir. I need you to promise me two things.”

“If I can, Shepard, I will. You know I’d take a bullet for you,” Anderson nodded.

“Tell the turian Hierarchy that we have Garrus. If he’s a prisoner of war, Alliance regulations say we need to notify his people,” Eve said.

“Fair enough,” Anderson agreed. “Come with me and we can send a message to the turians together. We’ve decoded enough of their encrypted channels that we can get something to them.”

“And two: promise me this, sir. No harm will come to Garrus while he’s here, and he’ll be comfortable,” Eve demanded.

“That’s why Alenko was assigned to be his guard,” Anderson said.

“No. Not just that. Three meals a day. Privacy. A comfortable bed. Just because he’s a prisoner doesn’t mean we have the right to treat him like shit, sir. He’s here because of me. I won’t watch him live in horrible conditions, not when I can do something,” Eve insisted.

“Fair enough,” Anderson sighed, after a long silence. “I’ll give word to Alenko to get Vakarian whatever creature comforts he needs.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eve said, relieved.

“Now, let’s tell the turians about your friend,” Anderson said.

Eve followed Anderson to the vidcom room, where, to their surprise, Admiral Grissom was in heated conversation with someone.

A _turian_ someone.

The hologram of the turian looked Anderson and Eve up and down carefully. “Human female. You must be the one who took him.”

“What?” Eve asked, confused.

“You will address my people with the respect they are due, _Primarch Victus_ ,” Grissom spat. “Commander Shepard. He was speaking to you.”

“Shepard. Hm. Yes, that was the name we heard,” Victus said, still regarding Eve strangely. “You killed my son.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” Eve mumbled, ashamed. Was Victus’s son among the dead of Garrus’s squad, or another faceless turian she’d killed with drones and traps?

“I don’t want sympathy from a human…pyjack!” Victus spat. “You took my son’s commander prisoner to torture information from him. The Hierarchy has never once tortured a human prisoner. We will repay this slight with blood.”

“I haven’t tortured anyone!” Eve protested. “I never would!”

“Lies!” Victus snarled. “Admiral Grissom, your ship is within range of my Thanix Cannon. I highly advise you turn over this _Commander_ , or we will blow your ship from the sky.”

Grissom turned to look at Eve, who was baffled, and shook his head. “No, Primarch. We will not abandon our soldiers like that.”

“Then enjoy your deaths,” Victus said, moving to close the vidcom.

“Wait!” Eve cried, startling the men. “Your son’s commander. What was his name?”

“He bears the name of my second-in-command’s clan, and so news of his torture was not received kindly,” Victus said. “His name is Vakarian.”


	13. Truth and Consequences

“Vakarian?” Eve repeated. “Sir, Garrus is my friend. I would never hurt him.”

Victus laughed bitterly. “You are naïve, child, if you expect me to believe this.”

Eve clenched her fists in anger. “Let me prove it to you, then.”

“Shepard,” Anderson warned.

“How do you propose this?” Victus asked.

“Garrus is onboard our ship. If I let him speak to you, will you stand down?” Eve replied.

Victus thought for a moment. “Yes.”

Eve turned to Grissom and Anderson, who looked less than pleased. Grissom reluctantly said, “Captain, see to it that Alenko brings up the turian.”

“Yes, sir,” Anderson nodded, leaving the room.

Grissom glared at Eve. “I have work to do. Don’t do anything stupid.”

With this, he also left, leaving Eve alone with Victus’s hologram. She turned to face the turian again and said, “Sir…I mean what I said. I am sorry about your son.”

Victus was quiet for a long time. “Turians are taught that duty is the most important virtue. My son died fulfilling his duty. Forgiveness…that is a virtue that comes less easily to my people.”

“Yes, sir,” Eve nodded, knowing what Victus was trying to say.

Anderson returned with Alenko and Garrus in tow before Eve could think of anything else to say. Alenko quickly left the room to return to his duties, but Anderson waited with Eve and Garrus.

“Sir,” Garrus said, bowing slightly to the hologram. “It’s an honor.”

Eve bristled when she realized Garrus had been chained like a common criminal, his hands cuffed in front of him and his ankles shackled as well. Before she could speak, Victus said, “Garrus. It’s good to see you. Your mother was worried.”

“Give mom and Solana my love,” Garrus replied with a small smile. “Don’t really know when I’ll see them next.”

“Yes…about that,” Victus said. He turned to Anderson. “Captain. Commander. I would like to speak to Garrus alone.”

“My apologies, sir, but we can’t do that. He has information sensitive to the Alliance…” Anderson shook his head.

“…which we have had for weeks and months already,” Victus finished. “Leave. This is not a request.”

Eve obeyed, giving Garrus a reassuring smile as she did so; a reluctant Anderson was right behind her.

“Sir, due respect, but I would have liked for Eve to stay here. She’s a friend. Whatever you tell me, she can hear,” Garrus said, once the two humans were gone.

“Eve?” Victus asked.

“Shepard,” Garrus clarified. “Thanks to her, I’m off Canae.”

“And onboard an Alliance ship, whose officers have no intention of releasing you,” Victus scowled. “How have they treated you?”

“Better than expected, considering the circumstances,” Garrus said. Sure, soldiers had been by his cell every day to harass him, but Alenko did a good job of telling them to fuck off, and he’d been given plenty of creature comforts. “Thanks to Eve, probably.”

“We’ll have you home soon, son,” Victus said. “I promised your father he wouldn’t lose his son the way I lost mine.”

Garrus winced. “I lost my whole team, sir. I’m sorry. Tarquin deserved better.”

“Tarquin died with honor. That’s all a turian can hope for in war,” Victus replied.

“Why are we even in this war, sir?” Garrus asked, fighting down guilt that threatened to overtake him. “We don’t need the resources or land on the planets we’re fighting over. Why fight?”

“You know why we fight. For protection of our homeworld and our colonies,” Victus said. “It is an honorable turian’s duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”

“ _Dulce et decorum est,_ I know, sir,” Garrus waved him off, tired of the old propaganda. “But what started the war? We didn’t just start killing humans for the hell of it. I hope.”

“ _They_ started it by killing us,” Victus growled.

“How? When the war began they barely had spaceflight. They honestly took down any turians with that technology?” Garrus demanded. Victus was hiding something, and he wanted answers.

“Their methods were crude but effective,” Victus said curtly.

“But why? I’ve talked with Eve. She told me their First Contact protocol was peaceful,” Garrus persisted.

“You’d have to ask one of them that, and they are all long dead,” Victus said. “Garrus, your questions concern me. Have you truly started to believe all the human propaganda your _friend_ has been spewing?”

“It’s not propaganda,” Garrus argued. “I trust her, sir. She’s always had my six.”

Victus sighed. “You worry me, Garrus. Either the humans have treated you so poorly that you’ve become brainwashed…or you are willfully choosing to side with them. Both options are concerning.”

“You’re dodging my questions,” Garrus accused. “Sir, what really happened in the Relay 314 incident?”

Victus was quiet for a long, long time. “Mistakes were made. That is all.”

“We’ve been in war for years over a _mistake?_ ” Garrus demanded. “Why not call a truce?”

“The humans have only grown more bloodthirsty over the course of the war. I will not yield to them,” Victus growled. “I have had enough of this, Vakarian. Send the human commander Grissom back in. I wish to speak with him.”

There were a million things Garrus wanted to say, but instead he managed through gritted teeth, “Yes, sir.”

He turned and left the room, storming back towards his cell and snarling, “The Primarch wants to talk to the Admiral,” at the startled pair of soldiers waiting outside the room.

“Garrus, wait,” Eve said, recovering from her shock faster than Anderson did. She trotted to catch up with him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

It wasn’t until he was back in the safety of his cell that Garrus spoke again. He punched at the wall, hissing in anger, and all but yelled at Eve, “Do you know how many of your people have died in this stupid war?”

“Thousands,” Eve replied, voice thin and tentative. “Garrus, what did the Primarch say? You’re scaring me.”

“This whole war was a mistake. Something happened on Mars, and someone made a mistake. We’ve been at war ever since. For something so stupid!” Garrus snarled, pacing the length of his cell like the caged predator he was. “I’ve killed countless numbers of your people because of a mistake.”

“Garrus, calm down,” Eve pleaded. Something about her tone of voice calmed the wildness in Garrus, slowed his pacing and angry breathing. “What happened?”

“He thinks I’ve been…brainwashed. Either that, or I’m a traitor. All because I think this war is wrong,” Garrus explained bitterly. “And now, knowing it was a mistake…maybe he’s right. Maybe the Hierarchy lost my loyalty when they _lied_ to me. To all of us! Visaeria…Nihlus…the rest of my team…they died for nothing!”

“Hey,” Eve soothed. “They died for their people, protecting them. There’s not a more honorable way to go.”

“Honor,” Garrus growled. “My people need to let go of their precious _honor_.”

“What were you always told about the Mars Massacre?” Eve asked.

“That the humans shot first, and killed the turian commander in cold blood before killing the rest of her team,” Garrus replied. “It was brutal.”

Eve was quiet for a long time. “That’s the opposite of what humans are taught. We’re told _you_ shot first, and executed our research expedition.”

Garrus looked faintly puzzled. “Well, they can’t both be right.”

Realization dawned on Eve and her blood ran cold. “I have a feeling neither one is. I need to talk to Admiral Grissom.”

She ran from the room, thoughts racing.

What if this war was just a tragic accident? What if neither side meant to harm the other, but first contact with another species frightened them all?

What…what if Eve could use this to end the war?

“Sir!” Eve skidded to a stop in the vidcom room, where Anderson and Grissom were still arguing with Victus over something. “Admiral Grissom!”

“Whatever you want for your turian, Shepard, now is not the time,” Grissom scowled.

“This is important, sir,” Eve insisted. “I insist.”

“I see you, too, have some insubordination to take care of,” Victus commented dryly. “The young these days don’t give their commanders due respect.”

“No, it’s just Shepard,” Grissom frowned. “Shepard, you heard me.”

“And you heard me, sir,” Eve didn’t back down. “I need to speak with you.”

“Captain, I trust you to manage our… _engaging_ debate with the Primarch until I return,” Grissom finally said, glaring at Eve as he followed her from the room.

“What started the war?” Eve demanded, the second they were out in the corridor.

“You pulled me from important talks with the _leader_ of our enemy to give you a history lesson?” Grissom spat.

“Just tell me. Please, sir,” Eve said.

Grissom sighed again. “The Mars Massacre. A science expedition with a military guard was attacked by a turian patrol and gunned down. Happy?”

“Who shot first?” Eve asked.

“The turians. Our scientists barely even fought back. They only took down one or two of the turians,” Grissom said. “Shepard, you know all of this.”

“Then why do the turians say that we shot first and killed all _their_ men?” Eve demanded.

“It’s hard to justify war if you’re in the wrong!” Grissom scowled. “Don’t be so naïve, and don’t believe everything they say. Lying bastards.”

“And you’re sure we’re much better?” Eve persisted. “You’re sure we were attacked unprovoked?”

“Yes. I have too many things I need to do rather than listen to you spout turian-sympathizing nonsense. Dismissed, Shepard,” Grissom waved her off and began to return to the vidcom room.

Eve followed, unwanted, just in time to hear Victus say, “…you have sufficiently proven to me that Captain Vakarian is physically unharmed. We will not destroy your vessel with him onboard, alive.”

“That’s a relief,” Anderson said.

“That said. I do not trust his mental stability after everything you have put him through. I wish for him to be seen by a doctor,” Victus went on.

“He’s been treated by our doctor already,” Grissom said. “Despite the waste of resources it was…”

“No, Admiral. By one of my people,” Victus said. “You have onboard your ship the son of my most trusted general. Your treatment of him has been severe, and we will not tolerate it any longer. Return him to the Citadel in the Serpent Nebula, or face the entirety of the Phalanx Flotilla.”

“Sir, we can’t evade an entire turian flotilla,” Anderson said under his breath to Grissom.

“No human has set foot on the Citadel and lived. We will not send him,” Grissom shook his head.

“Your fleet’s lives are worth less than one turian prisoner?” Victus asked.

“I will not shed any more human blood over this prisoner. But turian blood…if you insist upon it, turian blood will be shed,” Grissom said. “You will face the might of my fleet, and if you live, you will live to regret it.”

“This is your final chance, Admiral. Send an envoy with Captain Vakarian to the Citadel, or die,” Victus growled.

“N-” Grissom began.

“I’ll go,” Eve said boldly, cutting her commander off. All three men turned to look at her. “I’ll take Garrus to the Citadel.”

“Shepard, you’ll die!” Anderson protested. “They’ll kill you on sight.”

“It’s a risk I’ll take, sir,” Eve tried to hide her smile. They had no idea what she was planning.

She’d long heard rumors about a Citadel Council, a group of aliens who governed space in the Milky Way. If she could somehow convince them to intervene and end the war, knowing what she now knew…if _some way_ , the war could come to a peaceful conclusion… 

Then it was worth the risk.


	14. The Citadel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Threw in a few Andromeda characters because I love them!  
> Sorry this chapter took so long...had severe writer's block and had to power my way through it. I hope this chapter still lives up to expectations regardless!

“Shepard, are you sure about this?” Anderson asked, yet again, as Eve and Garrus began to climb into the shuttle.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Eve replied.

“You might not come back,” Anderson said. “The Citadel isn’t known for being friendly to humans. No one’s survived a trip there.”

“I’ll be the first, then,” Eve smiled reassuringly. “Someone has to take Garrus to the Citadel. It’ll protect the ship, and it’ll help my friend.”

Anderson sighed. “Just…come back, Shepard. That’s an order.”

“I will, sir. Promise,” Eve nodded. She turned and got into the shuttle behind Garrus, and the door swooshed shut behind them.

“You really didn’t have to do this,” Garrus said, once the shuttle disembarked from the Normandy.

Eve scowled. “Not you too.”

“I’m serious, Eve. The only humans stupid enough to go to the Citadel before this have died. I don’t want to add you to the list,” Garrus persisted. There was worry in his sea-blue eyes.

“Like I told you on Canae. I’m pretty fuckin’ hard to get rid of,” Eve smiled, laughing. “Don’t worry about me, Garrus.”

He stayed quiet, still mulling over everything that could go wrong. With any luck, they could simply explain the situation to C-Sec, and receive an armed escort to the hospital Garrus was to be seen at.

Garrus, however, did not consider himself to be a particularly lucky turian. If C-Sec refused to listen, or didn’t come to meet their shuttle the way he anticipated, they were screwed. Completely and utterly fucked, in fact. Eve would probably be attacked, and there was only so much one unarmed turian could do against an angry mob.

“You okay, big guy?” Eve asked, concern in her voice. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Just perfect,” Garrus lied, giving Eve his best fake smile. She sighed in relief, joking, “Good, I don’t want turian puke on my armor. Just got it.”

“You’re even more high-strung about your looks than Solana,” Garrus teased. Eve laughed.

“You’ll have to introduce us someday. She sounds like a sweetheart,” Eve smiled.

“She is,” Garrus nodded. “I bet she’d love to meet you.”

Static from the shuttle’s comms crackled before Garrus could say any more, and a turian voice said, “Citadel Docking Control. This ship is tagged as human. Explain.”

“Citadel, this is Captain Garrus Vakarian of the THS Aegis. The humans are releasing me from POW status. A human envoy was sent to escort me to the hospital for evaluation,” Garrus explained.

The pair had tossed around various ideas of stories to tell that would explain Eve’s presence, but ultimately, they had decided on the truth. Well…most of it – officially, the Alliance wasn’t releasing Garrus from anything.

“Acknowledged. Welcome, Captain Vakarian. Human…don’t fuck anything up,” the docking agent growled. “Dock at station 3-5-Alpha.”

Garrus obeyed, taking the ship down to land.

“Just stick with me, and everything will be fine,” Garrus told Eve, more for his reassurance than hers. “We’ll make sure you get home, too.”

The ship docked, the doors swished open, and the pair prepared to step into the unknown – Eve’s hand locked in Garrus’s.

“Don’t move, human!” a voice cried, before either of their eyes could even adjust to the blinding light of the docking bay.

Instinctively, Garrus shoved Eve behind him, ready to protect her at any cost. He snarled, “Stand down!”

The three C-Sec agents looked baffled, but obeyed, lowering their pistols. The lead agent, a turian, demanded, “Why are you protecting a human?”

“Commander Shepard saved my life when I was picked up by humans,” Garrus replied, neglecting to mention that she had also _called_ said humans. “She was sent by the humans as an envoy.”

The turian agent looked displeased but put his weapon away, motioning for the two salarians with him to do the same. “An envoy for what, precisely? The Council won’t see her, not while the war goes on.”

“She’s to accompany me to the nearest hospital so my condition can be assessed. Primarch Victus ordered it,” Garrus said, once again bending the truth. Victus had ordered his examination, yes, but not Eve’s presence.

The turian looked skeptical but reluctantly agreed, “Fine. We’ll accompany you there, otherwise your little human here is going to get killed. Don’t need any reason to bring any more humans here. We all know how much they like their revenge.”

“Thank you,” Garrus nodded, relieved.

“Closest hospital is in the Zakera Ward,” the turian said. “Let’s get moving.”

“Ward?” Eve asked Garrus, once they began to follow the turian, the salarians flanking them.

“The Citadel is broken down into Wards. It’s the only way we can keep track of locations in it, since it’s so damn big,” Garrus explained.

“Stop giving the human sensitive information like that,” one of the salarians said quickly. “Or you’re on your own.”

Eve couldn’t help but marvel at the skinny aliens. Garrus had given her a quick briefing during their shuttle ride, regarding the various aliens she might see on the Citadel – asari and salarians, volus and batarians, krogan and elcor…his descriptions had been rapid-fire, but she’d gotten the gist.

His descriptions hadn’t really done any of the species justice, though. Garrus had told her how quick and flighty salarians were, how outrageously intelligent most of them were. He _hadn’t_ mentioned that even their frames were small and designed for movement, that they even talked and breathed so damn fast.

Other aliens – a blue woman Eve thought was an asari, and something that looked like a large jellyfish – turned and regarded her with wide-eyed wonder as she walked by, as if _she_ was the strange one.

Well…they would’ve, if the jellyfish had had eyes, but the asari was certainly staring. Then again, here, Eve _was_ the strange one. None of them had ever seen a human before, not on their Citadel.

To think, Eve was the first human to see all these different species and live.

Well…that latter part was yet to be determined.

 

Garrus sat in the examination room, impatiently waiting for the doctor to appear and give him a clean bill of health. Eve had been forbidden to wait with him, for fear that she would “intimidate Garrus” and “alter his responses to questioning,” so she was in another room with the C-Sec agents.

The thought of Eve alone with another turian made Garrus’s stomach churn – so many things could go wrong. But Kandros, the turian agent, had seemed like a proud and honorable turian, and the two salarians, Maelon and Raeka, had seemed able to hold their own as well. He didn’t trust them, but their demeanors on their trip to the Zakera Ward had eased his fears.

Even if only barely.

There was a knock at the door before an asari and a turian entered. The asari said, “My apologies for the wait, Captain. I am Dr. Lexi T’Perro, and I will be doing your examination today. With me is your…”

“Primarch Victus,” Garrus breathed. He’d met the man once, at one of his father’s promotion ceremonies, but it had been a long time.

“It’s good to see you in one piece on friendly soil, Garrus,” Victus smiled.

Dr. T’Perro ignored the reunion, pulling up something on her datapad. Just as Victus opened his mouth to speak again, the asari cut him off with, “Doctor’s log, patient identification 1-0-9-3-8-0-Omega. Captain Garrus Vakarian, a turian patient who was held as a prisoner of war on the human vessel Intrepid.”

She looked him up and down and went on, “No visible signs of trauma. Health looks above average, although scans indicate slight malnutrition.”

When Victus’s smile fell to a scowl, Garrus quickly said, “That’s from my time on Canae. Eve ensured the humans fed me well.”

“Why do you insist on defending them?” Victus demanded, earning a frown from Dr. T’Perro. “They held you prisoner, Garrus!”

“For my protection onboard!” Garrus snapped back. “Eve would never – ”

“Again with this Eve! She is a human, Vakarian, one who has murdered countless numbers of our people!” Victus snarled.

“Sir, you’re frightening my patient,” Dr. T’Perro said crossly. “His heart rate and blood pressure are spiking. If you would like for me to examine him, please do not cross-examine him while I’m working!”

Victus sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Your job, Doctor, is to find out whether he was tortured or mistreated. Mine is to figure out what the hell is going on with him!”

“I wasn’t tortured!” Garrus all but yelled, frustrated that they weren’t listening to him. “Eve saw that I was taken care of. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because they’re humans!” Victus spat back. “They’re cruel and barbaric. You should be thanking the spirits you’re alive!”

“Some of them are, yes!” Garrus conceded. “But not all of them. There’s good ones out there, just like there’s bad turians.”

“Your loyalty to them worries me,” Victus shook his head. “Dr. T’Perro, do you have an explanation for it?”

The asari scanned Garrus’s head. “Nothing physiological. I would have to do a thorough psychological examination on Captain Vakarian to see if there is an underlying reason. Victims of torture can sometimes form a close psychological bond with their captors in the hopes of being freed…”

“…but I wasn’t tortured,” Garrus insisted again. Dr. T’Perro glared at him.

“…but seeing as I have found no physiological signs of torture, this is unlikely. He may simply be telling the truth, Primarch. The human who accompanied him here may truly be a friend and ally to the Captain,” she went on, as if he hadn’t spoken.

“I would almost rather you tell me his brain was addled by torture,” Victus sighed. “Garrus…working with a human… _defending_ them…you must know what that means.”

“That maybe this goddamn war isn’t worth fighting,” Garrus replied defiantly.

“That you may be a traitor to the Hierarchy,” Victus said coldly.

Garrus felt his heart drop and ice flood through his veins. They had only just gotten Eve out of treason charges…now it was his turn? 

“As you are Castis’s son, I will be merciful on you,” Victus went on. “But we cannot have you spreading the kind of dissent and nonsense you’ve been spewing about the humans.”

“It’s not nonsense, sir,” Garrus insisted weakly, despite Victus’s words.

Victus sighed again. “Once Dr. T’Perro has finished her examination of you, you will be sent back to Palaven. There, you will be court-martialed for your desertion and dereliction of duty.”

“Sir?” Garrus asked. Desertion? Dereliction of duty? If there were two more humiliating things for an upstanding turian to be charged with, aside from treason, he wasn’t sure what they were.

“You abandoned your post on Canae and spent time tromping around with a human you should have killed. You will pay the price,” Victus said. With this, he turned and left the room.

Garrus couldn’t hide the panic from Dr. T’Perro’s scanners. She simply sighed, “I’m sorry, Captain. Perhaps your Hierarchy will be merciful.”

He hung his head. This was a situation even Eve couldn’t get him out of. How could he tell her, without her temper exacerbating the situation? He couldn’t.

What he didn’t know was that Eve, on the guise of taking a bathroom break, had been lingering outside the door.

The moment the word “traitor” passed Victus’s lips, she was gone.

She would fix this.

She had to.


	15. Desperate Measures

Eve sprinted out of the hospital, breath coming in short bursts as she headed in what she hoped was the right direction. Behind her she could hear the shouts of Kandros as he realized she was gone, only pushing her to run faster.

Where was she? Where was she going? She had no idea, but she knew that she had to do _something_.

Otherwise, Garrus’s life was in ruins, and it was her fault. He had gotten her out of her own predicament, and now it was time to repay the favor. She owed Garrus her life. She wouldn’t repay that with inaction.

She ran along the Ward – what was it called? The Zakera Ward? – frantically, feet moving of their own accord. Aliens turned and regarded her curiously, the desperate, frantic human sprinting along like a bat out of hell.

Finally, she found someone who looked friendly, a young turian with bright red facepaint. She grabbed the girl by the shoulders, pleading, “Please, you have to help me. Tell me where the Council is.”

“Um…the Presidium. You’ll have to take a rapid transit…” the girl said, and Eve was gone. The girl’s wits caught up with her and she cried, “Wait, you’re – !”

Eve found what looked like a rapid transit station, pushing a grumpy salarian out of line and scrambling into the cab. She screamed at the VI, “The Presidium! Now!”

“Beginning transit to the Presidium, location of the Council chambers. Be advised, security measures are in effect due to the Relay 314 War,” the VI replied.

“I don’t fucking care!” Eve yelled, as if the VI could hear her, or care.

The shuttle hadn’t even come to a complete stop before Eve forced the door open and ran towards the massive building at the top of a large flight of stairs – what she hoped were the Council chambers.

“There she is!” a turian voice behind her yelled. Eve threw a glance back at the speaker. C-Sec, of course. So Kandros had radioed his compatriots.

Now she was a fugitive, to add to the list of things the people of the Citadel already saw her as. Well, no matter. Garrus was more important.

She hurtled past the two C-Sec agents at the door to the large building and kicked the door open, skidding to a breathless stop when she saw the scene before her.

On three large podiums were three impressive-looking aliens – a turian, an asari, and a salarian. They looked to be deep in conversation, but looked up upon hearing their door slam open.

“Guards!” the asari cried.

Instantly, a sea of C-Sec agents appeared from nowhere, surrounding Eve. She disarmed the closest agent, an asari, and held the gun to her head. Eve pleaded, “Your Excellencies, please listen to me!”

“Humans do speak, then,” the turian said gruffly. “Here I was starting to think all they could do was grunt and growl like the barbarians they are.”

Eve ignored the slight. “Please. My business is important. I need you to listen to me. I mean you no harm.”

“Let my daughter go and we will see,” the asari Councilor growled.

Eve reluctantly handed the pistol back to the asari she had disarmed. The agents all took several steps back but kept their weapons trained squarely on Eve. The asari said, “Arrest her.”

“Listen to me!” Eve begged desperately.

“A human should not be on the Citadel in the first place, much less in our chambers. You have escaped custody, no doubt, attacked our guards, and rage like a barbarian. Why should we listen to you?” the salarian demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Eve said, feeling pathetic. “I wouldn’t have done those things if I hadn’t had to. But please, my friend’s life is in jeopardy, and I have to help him.”

“Even if we were to care about human affairs, we deal with the needs of the galaxy, not individuals. Why should we care?” the turian scoffed.

“My friend is a turian,” Eve snapped, getting annoyed.

The turian raised a skeptical browplate. “Either you are insane or lying. Either way, we will not entertain your fantasies.”

“I want to bring an end to this pointless war,” Eve yelled, angry. “And I need your help to do that!”

“Humans began this war!” the turian yelled back.

“Peace, Sparatus,” the asari said. “Human, is this the will of your government, or of yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Eve admitted. “But you know as well as I do, Councilor, that this war is wrong. Too much blood has been spilled for no reason. If the Council’s job is to deal with the needs of the galaxy, then you can end this war!”

“We have little power over the turians and none over the humans. How can we do anything?” the asari asked.

“You’re the fucking _Council_! Think of something!” Eve cried, frustrated.

The three aliens stared at Eve in intense thought while she glowered right back. Finally she went on, “Both the human Alliance and the turian Hierarchy lied to their subjects about the cause of the war. It is unjust and cruel. We should be working together, not fighting!”

“And how would you repay the blood you have shed?” Sparatus, the turian, demanded.

“In the blood _you_ have shed,” Eve fired back. She ignored Sparatus and turned to the salarian and asari Councilors. “Please, Councilors.”

“You say the governments have lied. Explain,” the salarian Councilor ordered.

“The humans have always been told that the turians massacred our people on Mars, and the turians have been told the reverse. Both can’t be true. The truth…is probably somewhere in the middle,” Eve said. “This war began over a misunderstanding and continued because of hatred. But I’ve seen what turians can be like…I know the truth now.”

“So we’re to believe that one human represents them all? That your government would willingly end the war just because one of their soldiers befriended a turian?” the asari demanded. She laughed.

“Maybe not. But if you were to offer an incentive, I’m sure they would. Humans have always been dreamers…give us a spot on the Council. My leaders would sign an armistice if we could help shape the galaxy,” Eve said, desperately thinking on the fly. Would that make the Alliance sign a treaty? She had no idea. She was making things up as she went, honestly, the way she always did. But she had to convince the Council to act. To end the war, if nothing else. Maybe an end to the war could stop Garrus’s court-martial…maybe. She had to try.

“And share the Council with murderers? No!” Sparatus raged.

“What about an embassy?” the salarian Councilor asked.

“I’m sorry?” Eve managed, surprised. Was…was one of them listening to her?

“Humans have not yet set foot on the Citadel and lived. Making you a major player in galactic decisions so soon would be unwise. But…an embassy is the first step to becoming a Council race. Would your people sign a treaty if we were to grant them an embassy?” the salarian explained

“I’m…not sure,” Eve said, mind spinning. Her plan was actually…working?

“We can at the very least make this offer,” the salarian went on. “Sparatus, surely your people are tired of war. They have lost countless children to it.”

Sparatus was seething, but admitted through clenched teeth, “We will never surrender, tired as we may be.”

“We are not asking for either side to surrender,” the asari said calmly. “Merely to sit down at the table of peace. We can be the mediators to end this horrible war.”

Sparatus was silent for a long time, before the salarian added, “This will happen whether or not you agree, Sparatus. If this is to come to a vote, Tevos and I will overrule you.”

The turian seethed before reluctantly grumbling, “Fine. Do what you will. I cannot speak for the Hierarchy’s reaction to this plot.”

Relief washed over Eve in a heavy wave that felt like hitting a wall. Had she…had she done it? Had she ended this war? Had she saved Garrus from his court-martial?

She hadn’t felt this free in years, not since leaving the gangs on Earth behind. Her body couldn’t take it. She fell to her knees before fainting.

 

“Shepard?” it was Anderson’s voice.

Eve slowly opened her eyes, blinking in the bright fluorescent lighting. Where the hell was she?

“Sir?” Eve mumbled, rubbing her head. “What…where…?”

She tried to sit up, but Anderson’s firm hand on her shoulder kept her lying down.

“Easy, Shepard. You did a lot today. Get some rest,” Anderson chuckled.

“The Council!” Eve remembered, sitting up with a jolt.

Anderson sighed. “You’ve never been particularly good at taking orders, have you?”

He paused and went on, “The Council sent a message to the Alliance and turian commanders. They proposed a full peace treaty and offered humans an embassy on the Citadel, with a plan in place for them to become a Council race if all goes well in about ten years.”

“And? Did either side accept?” Eve demanded.

“The Alliance did. They named me as the interim Ambassador,” Anderson nodded.

“What about the Hierarchy?” Eve persisted.

Anderson paused as if for effect. When Eve felt she was about to explode from the tension, he smiled and nodded. “You ended the war, Shepard. You’re a god damn hero.”

Eve let out a cry of triumph, falling back down onto her bed as she pumped her fists in the air.

She had done it.

Now to tell Garrus.

Garrus!

“Where’s Garrus?” Eve demanded.

“About that…” Anderson began. “Shepard, he’s due to be sent back to Palaven tomorrow morning for his court-martial. If you want to say goodbye, you’d best do it today.”

The world spun. She hadn’t done it, had hardly done anything. What was the point of ending a war if she couldn’t even save her best friend?

“I’ve got to go see him,” Eve managed, clambering out of bed. “I’ve got to make this right.”

“Shepard, I didn’t mean right now. Get some rest. He’s not going anywhere today,” Anderson said.

“No. I have to fix this,” Eve insisted, pushing Anderson away.

Yet again, she fled from the room, desperate to make things right.

**Author's Note:**

> Got a prompt, idea, or story you'd like to see me write? Head on over to littlebutfiery.tumblr.com and shoot me an ask - I'd be happy to write something for you!


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